THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


FROM  THE  LIBRARY  OF 
ERNEST  CARROLL  MOORE 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY 


i. 


THF.     FOUNDATION  THE     CORONATION'S  — 

THE    ROYAL    TOMBS  —  THE    MONUMENTS 


THE   CORONATION   CHAIR. 


WFSTM        n-R-  ABI 


The  Abbey. 


OF 


WESTMINSTER   ABBEY 


BY 

ARTHUR    PENRHYN    STANLEY,    D.D. 

ILaif  Dran  pf  EElrstminsUr 

CORRESPONDING    MEMBER    OF    THE   1N-111UTE   OF    FRANCE 


Illustrate*)  libitum 


VOLUME    I. 

THE    FOUNDATION    OF   THK    A  I'.IIF.Y  — THE   CORONATIONS- 
TIIE    ROYAL   TOMBS  — THE   MONUMENTS 


PHILADELPHIA 

GEORGE    W.   JACOBS    &    CO. 
103-105   SOUTH  15x11   STRKET 


COPYRIGHT  1899,  EY 
Gtoi<r.E   W.  JACOBS   &   Co. 


College 
Library 


UJ5S7 


TO 
HER    MOST    GRACIOUS     MAJESTY 

QUEEN    VICTORIA 

WITH    EVERY    SENTIMENT   OK    LOYAL    AND    RESPECTFUL   GRATITUDE 


THIS    HUMBLE    RECORD 
OF    THE    ROYAL    AND     NATIONAL    SANCTUARY 

WHICH    HAS   FOR   CENTURIES    ENSHRINED 
THE   VARIED   MEMORIES   OF   HER   AUGUST   ANCESTORS 

AM)   THE    MANIFOLD   GLORIES    OF    HER    FREE   AND   FAMOUS    KINGDOM 
AND    WHICH    WITNESSED   THE   SOLEMN    CONSECRATION 

OF    HER    OWN    AUSPICIOUS    REIGN 
TO    ALL    HIGH    AND    HOLY    PURPOSES 


1327C76 


NOTE   TO   THE   SIXTH    EDITION. 

This  volume  is  printed  from  the  copy  left  by 
the  Dean  at  his  death,  and  containing  his  final 
corrections  and  additions. 

Easter,  1882 


PREFACE. 


THE  following  Work  was  undertaken,  in  great  meas- 
ure, in  consequence  of  the  kind  desire  expressed 
by  many  friends,  chiefly  by  my  honoured  colleagues  in 
the  Chapter  of  Westminster,  on  occasion  of  the  Eight 
Hundredth  Anniversary  of  the  Dedication  of  the  Abbey, 
that  I  would  attempt  to  illustrate  its  history  by  Memo- 
rials similar  to  those  which,  in  former  years,  I  had 
published  in  connection  with  Canterbury  Cathedral 
Such  a  proposal  was  in  entire  consonance  with  my  own 
previous  inclinations ;  but  I  have  undertaken  it  not 
without  much  misgiving. 

The  task  was  one  which  involved  considerable  re- 
search, such  as,  amidst  the  constant  pressure  of  other 
and  more  important  occupations,  I  was  conscious  that 
I  could  ill  afford  to  make.  This  difficulty  has  been  iu 
part  met  by  the  valuable  co  operation  which  I  have 
received  from  persons  the  best  qualified  to  give  it. 
Besides  the  facilities  rendered  to  me  by  the  members 
and  officers  of  our  own  Capitular  and  Collegiate  Body, 
to  whom  I  here  tender  my  grateful  thanks,  I  may 
especially  name  Mr.  Joseph  Burtt,  of  the  Public  Record 
Olfice,  whose  careful  arrangement  of  our  Archives 
during  the  last  three  years  has  given  him  ample  oppor- 


Viii  PREFACE. 

tunities  for  bringing  any  new  light  to  bear  on  the 
subject ;  the  lamented  Joseph  Robertson,  of  the  Reg- 
ister House,  Edinburgh,  who  was  always  ready  to 
supply,  from  his  copious  stores,  any  knowledge  bearing 
on  the  Northern  Kingdom  ;  the  Rev.  John  Stoughton, 
who  has  afforded  me  much  useful  information  on  the 
Nonconformist  antiquities  of  the  Abbey  ;  Mr.  Thorns, 
the  learned  Editor  of  '  Notes  and  Queries;  and  Sub- 
Librarian  of  the  House  of  Lords ;  Mr.  George  Scharf, 
Keeper  of  the  National  Portrait  Gallery ;  Mr.  Doyne  C. 
Bell,  of  the  Privy  Purse,  Buckingham  Palace;  and 
Colonel  Chester,  a  distinguished  antiquarian  of  the 
United  States,1  who,  with  a  diligence  \vhich  spared  no 
labour,  and  a  disinterestedness  which  spared  no  ex- 
penditure, has  at  his  own  cost  edited  and  illustrated 
with  a  copious  accuracy  which  leaves  nothing  to  be 
desired,  the  Registers  of  the  Baptisms,  Marriages,  and 
Burials  in  the  Abbey. 

For  such  inaccuracies  as  must  be  inevitable  in  a  work 
covering  so  large  a  Held,  I  must  crave,  not  only  the 
indulgence,  but  the  corrections  of  tho.se  whose  longer 
experience  of  Westminster  and  whose  deeper  acquaint- 
ance with  English  history  and  literature  will  enable 
them  to  point  out  errors  which  have  doubtless  escaped 
my  notice  in  this  rapid  survey. 

After  all  that  has  been  written  on  the  Abbey,  it 
would  be  absurd  for  any  modern  work  to  make  preten- 
sions to  more  than  a  rearrangement  of  already  existing 

1  For  the  verification  of  statements  and  references  in  the  earlier 
Chapters,  I  am  in  a  great  measure  indebted  to  Mr.  Frank  Srott  1  lav- 
don  and  Mr.  Edward  Rhodes,  of  the  Public  Record  Office  ;  and  for  the 
Index  to  my  friend  Mr.  George  (Jrove,  and  to  Mr.  Henry  F.  Turle. 


PREFACE.  ix 

materials.     It  may  be  as  well  briefly  to  enumerate  the 
authorities  from  which  I  have  drawn. 

I.    The  original  sources,  some  of  which  have  been 
hardly  accessible  to  former  explorers,  are  — 

1.  The  ARCHIVES  preserved   in  the  Muniment  Chamber  of 
the  Abbey.     These  reach  back  to  the  Charters  of  the  Saxon 
Kings.     They  were   roughly  classified  by  "Widmore,   in  the 
last  century,  and  have  now  undergone  a  thorough  and  skilful 
examination  under  the  care  of  Mr.  Burtt  of  the  Public  Record 
Office  (see  Arctueoloyical  Journal,  No.  114,  p.  135). 

2.  The  CHAPTER  BOOKS,   which  reach  from    1542  to  the 
present  time,  with  the  exception  of  two  important  blanks  — 
from  1554  to  1558,  under  the  restored  Benedictines  of  Queen 
Mary;  and  from   1G42  to  1GG2,  under  the  Commissioners  of 
the  Commonwealth. 

3.  The    REGISTERS    of  Baptisms,  Marriages,  and  Burials, 
mentioned  p.  13G. 

4.  The  PRECENTOR'S  BOOK,  containing  a  partial  record  of 
customs  during  the  last  century. 

5.  The  '  CONSUETUDINES'  of  Abbot  WARE,  and 

-    G.    The  MS.  HISTORY  OF  THE  ABBEY  by  FLETE,  both  men- 
tioned vol.  iii.  p.  2. 

7.  The    MSS.    in  the    Heralds'    and  Lord  Chamberlain's 
Offices. 

8.  The  '  INVENTORY  OF  THE  MONASTERY,'  lately  discovered 
at  the  Land  Revenue  Record  Office  by  the  Rev.  Mackenzie 
E.  C.  Walcott,  and  printed  in  the  Transactions  of  the  London 
and  Middlesex  Archaeological  Society,  vol.  iv. 

IT.    The  chief  printed  authorities  are  :  — 

1.  Heyes,  Kegince  ft  Nobiles  in  Ecclesia  Beat!  Petri   West- 
monasteriensis   Xc/>it/fi,    by  WILLIAM    CAM  DEN    (1GOO,    1G03, 
and    1GOG). 

2.  MttitinHcitfti  Westmonasteriensia,  by  HENRY  KKKPF,  (usu- 
ally signed  II.  K.),  1G83, 


X  PREFACE. 

3.  Antiquities  of  St.  Peter's,  by  J.  CRULL  (usually  signed 
J.  C.,  sometimes  H.  S.)     [These  three  works  relate  chiefly 
to  the  Monuments.] 

4.  History  and  Antiquities  of  the  Abbey   Church   of  West- 
minster, by  JOHN  DART  (2  vols.  folio,  1723). 

5.  History  of  the  Church  of  St.  I'eter,  and  Inquiry  into  the 
Time  of  its  First  Foundation,  by  HICHARD  WIDMORE,  Libra- 
rian to  the  Chapter  and  Minor  Canon  of  Westminster  1750 
(carefully  based  on  the  original  Archives). 

6.  History  of  the  Abbey,  by  E.  AKERMAN  (2  vols.  royal  4to, 
1812). 

7.  History  and  Antiquities  of  the  Abbey  Church  of  St.  Peter, 
Westminster,  by  JOHX  NEALE  arid  EDWARD  BRAYLEY  (2  vols. 
folio,  1818).     [This  is  the  most  complete  work.] 

8.  Gleanings  from    Westminster   Abbey,    under  the  super- 
vision of  GEORGE  GILBERT  SCOTT  (2d  edit.  1863),  by  various 
contributors  (chiefly  architectural). 

To  these  must  be  added  the  smaller  but  exceedingly  useful 
works — PETER  CUNNINGHAM'S  Handbook  of  Westminster 
Abbey,  and  MR.  RIDGWAY'S  Gem  of  Thorney  Island ;  and  the 
elaborate  treatises  of  STOW,  MALCOLM,  and  MAITLAND,  on 
London ;  of  SMITH,  BRAYLEY,  and  WALCOTT,  on  Westminster ; 
and  of  CARTER,  GOUGH,  and  WEEVER,  on  sepulchral  monu- 
ments in  general. 

III.  In  turning  from  the  sources  of  information  to 
the  use  made  of  them,  a  serious  difficulty  occurred. 
Here,  as  in  the  case  of  Canterbury  Cathedral,  it  was 
my  intention  to  confine  myself  strictly  to  the  historical 
memorials  of  the  place,  leaving  the  architectural  and 
purely  antiquarian  details  to  those  who  have  treated 
them  in  the  works  to  which  I  have  already  referred.1 

1  Documents  of  this  kind,  not  before  published,  or  not  generallv 
accessible,  were  printed  in  the  Appendix  to  the  earlier  editions  of  this 
work. 


PREFACE.  xi 

But  the  History  of  Westminster  Abbey  differs  essen- 
tially from  that  of  Canterbury  Cathedral,  or,  indeed,  of 
any  other  ecclesiastical  edifice  in  England.  In  Canter- 
bury I  had  the  advantage  of  four  marked  events,  or 
series  of  events,  of  which  one  especially  —  the  murder 
of  Becket  —  whilst  it  was  inseparably  entwined  with  the 
whole  structure  of  the  building,  was  capable  of  being  re- 
produced, in  all  its  parts,  as  a  separate  incident.  In 
Westminster  no  such  single  act  has  occurred.  The  in- 
terest of  the  place  depends  (as  I  have  pointed  out  in 
Chapter  I.)  on  the  connection  of  the  different  parts  with 
the  whole,  and  of  the  whole  with  the  general  History  of 
England.  These  '  HISTORICAL  MEMORIALS  '  ought  to  be, 
in  fact, '  The  History  of  England  in  Westminster  Abbey.' 
Those  who  are  acquainted  with  M.  Ampere's  delightful 
book,  L'ffistoire  Romaine  a  Rome,  will  appreciate  at  once 
the  charm  and  the  difficulty  of  such  an  undertaking.  In 
order  to  accomplish  it,  I  was  compelled,  on  the  one 
hand,  to  observe  as  far  as  possible  a  chronological 
arrangement,  such  as  is  lost  in  works  like  Neale's  or 
Cunningham's,  which  necessarily  follow  the  course  of 
the  topography.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  lines  of 
interest  are  so  various  and  so  divergent,  that  to  blend 
them  in  one  indiscriminate  series  would  have  confused 
relations  which  can  only  be  made  perspicuous  by  being 
kept  distinct.  At  the  cost  therefore  of  some  repetition, 
and  probably  of  some  misplacements,  I  have  treated 
each  of  these  subjects  by  itself,  though  arranging  them 
in  the  sequence  which  was  engendered  by  the  historical 
order  of  the  events. 

The  Foundation  of  the  Abbey,1  growing  out  of  the 

1  Chapter  L 


Xii  PREFACE. 

physical  features  of  the  locality,  the  legendary  tradi- 
tions, and  the  motives  and  character  of  Edward  the 
Confessor,  naturally  forms  the  groundwork  of  all  that 
succeeds. 

From  the  Burial  of  the  Confessor,  and  the  peculiar 
circumstances  attendant  upon  it,  sprang  the  Coronation 
of  AVilliam  the  Conqueror,  which  carries  with  it  the 
Coronations  of  all  future  Sovereigns.  These  scenes 
were,  perhaps,  too  slightly  connected  with  the  Abbey 
to  justify  even  the  summary  description  which  1  have 
given.  Bui,  the  subject,  viewed  as  a  whole,  is  so  curi- 
ous, that  I  may  be  pardoned  for  having  endeavoured 
to  concentrate  in  one  focus  these  periodical  pageants, 
which  certainly  have  been  regarded  as  amongst  the  chief 
glories  of  the  place.1 

The  Tombs  of  the  Kiims,  as  taking  their  rise  from 
the  Burial  of  Henry  III.  by  the  Shrine  of  the  Confessor, 
followed  next ;  and  their  connection  with  the  structure 
of  the  Church  is  so  intimate,  that  this  seemed  the  most 
fitting  point  at  which  to  introduce  such  notices  of  the 
architectural  changes  as  were  compatible  with  the  plan 
of  the  work.  This  Chapter 2  accordingly  contains  the 
key  of  the  whole. 

From  the  Burials  of  the  Kings  followed,  in  continu- 
ous order,  the  interments  of  eminent  men.  These  I 
have  endeavoured  to  track  in  the  successive  groups  of 
Courtiers,  Warriors,  and  Statesmen,  through  the  marked 
epochs  of  Richard  II.,  of  Elizabeth,  and  of  the  Common- 
wealth, ending  with  the  Statesmen's  Corners  in  the 
North  Transept  and  the  Nave.  In  like  manner  the 

1  Chapter  II.  2  Chapter  III. 


PREFACE.  xili 

Men  of  Letters,  and  of  Arts  and  Sciences,  are  carried 
through  the  various  links  which,  starting  i'roin  the 
CJrave  of  Chaucer  in  Poets'  Corner,  include  the  South 
Transept,  and  the  other  Chapels  whither  by  degrees 
they  have  penetrated.  1  have  also  added  to  these 
such  Graves  or  Monn.ments  as,  without  falling  under 
any  of  the  foregoing  heads,  yet  deserve  a  passing 
notice.1 

There  still  remained  the  outlying  edifices  of  the 
Abbey,  which  necessitated  a  brief  sketch  of  the  history 
of  the  events  and  personages  (chiefly  ecclesiastical)  that 
have  figured  within  the  Precincts  before  and  since  the 
Reformation.  For  these  two  Chapters, as  a  general  rule, 
I  have  reserved  the  burial-places  of  the  Abbots  and 
Deans.  In  the  first  period,'2  1  have  thought  it  best  to 
include  the  whole  history  of  such  buildings  as  the 
Chapter  House,  the  Treasury,  and  the  Gatehouse,  al- 
though in  so  doing  it  was  necessary  to  anticipate  what 
properly  belongs  to  the  second  division  of  the  local 
history.  Only  such  details  are  given  as  were  peculiar 
to  Westminster,  without  enlarging  on  the  features 
common  to  all  Benedictine  monasteries.  Again  I  have, 
in  the  period  since  the  lie  formation,3  reserved  for  a 
single  summary  all  that  related  to  the  local  reminis- 
cences of  the  Convocations  that  have  been  held  within 
the  Precincts.  The  History  of  Westminster  School, 
which  opened  a  larger  field  than  could  be  conveniently 
included  within  the  limits  of  this  work,  1  have  noticed 
only  so  far  as  was  necessary  to  give  a  general  survey  of 
the  destination  of  the  whole  of  the  Conventual  build- 

1  Chapter  IV,  '!  Chapter  V.  a  Chapter  VI. 


xiv  PREFACE. 

ings,  and  to  form  a  united  representation  of  the  whole 
Collegiate  Body  during  some  of  the  most  eventful 
periods  of  its  annals. 

In  treating  subjects  of  this  wide  and  varied  interest, 
I  have  endeavoured  to  confine  myself  to  such  events 
and  such  remarks  as  were  essentially  connected  with 
the  localities.  In  so  doing  I  have,  on  the  one  hand,  felt 
bound  to  compress  the  notices  of  personages  or  inci- 
dents that  were  too  generally  known  to  need  detailed 
descriptions  ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  to  enlarge  on  some 
of  the  less  familiar  names,  which,  without  some  such 
explanation,  would  lose  their  significance.  I  have  also 
not  scrupled  to  quote  at  length  many  passages  —  some- 
times celebrated,  sometimes,  perhaps,  comparatively  un- 
known —  which,  from  their  intrinsic  beauty,  have 
themselves  become  part  of  the  History  of  the  Abbey. 
This  must  be  the  excuse,  if  any  be  needed,  for  the 
numerous  citations  from  Shakspeare,  Fuller,  Clarendon, 
Addison,  Gray,  Walpole,  Macaulay,  Irving,  and  Froude. 
The  details  of  the  pageants,  unless  when  necessary  for 
the  historical  bearing  of  the  events,  I  have  left  to  be 
examined  in  the  authorities  to  which  I  have  referred. 

IV.  I  cannot  bring  this  survey  of  the  History  of  the 
Abbey  to  a  conclusion,  without  recurring  for  a  moment 
to  various  suggestions  which  were  made,  by  those  in- 
terested in  the  subject,  at  the  time  of  the  celebration 
of  the  Eighth  Centenary  of  the  Foundation.  Some  — 
the  most  important  —  have,  happily,  been  carried  out. 
By  the  liberality  of  Parliament,  under  the  auspices, 
first  of  Mr.  Gladstone  and  Mr.  Cowper  Temple  in  1865, 


PREFACE.  XV 

and  then  of  Sir  Stafford  Nortbcote  and  Lord  Henry 
Lennox  in  1875,  the  ancient  Chapter  House  has  been 
restored.  By  the  aid  of  the  Ecclesiastical  Commission, 
an  apparatus  for  warming  has  been  carried  through  the 
whole  edifice,  materially  conducive  to  the  preservation 
of  the  Fabric  and  the  Monuments,  as  well  as  to  the 
convenience  of  Public  Worship.  The  erection  of  a  new 
Reredos,  more  worthy  of  so  august  a  sanctuary,  has  at 
length  been  completed,  under  the  care  of  the  Subdean, 
Lord  John  Thynne,  to  whose  long  and  unfailing  interest 
in  the  Abbey  its  structure  and  arrangements  have  been 
so  much  indebted. 

In  addition  to  these  improvements,  it  has  been  often 
suggested  that  none  would  add  so  much  to  the  external 
beauty  of  the  Building,  without  changing  its  actual 
proportions,  or  its  relations  to  past  history,  as  the  resto- 
ration of  the  Great  Northern  Entrance  to  something  of 
its  original  magnificence,  which  has  almost  disappeared 
under  the  alterations  of  later  times.  In  this  plan  for 
glorifying  the  main  approach  to  the  Abbey  from  the 
great  thoroughfare  of  the  Metropolis  much  progress  has 
been  made  since  the  work  was  published. 

The  Royal  Monuments  —  after  a  long  discussion  oc- 
casioned by  a  Report  presented  in  1S54,  by  the  distin- 
guished Architect  of  the  Abbey,  Sir  Gilbert  Scott,  to 
Sir  W.  Molesworth,  then  First  Commissioner  of  Public 
Works —  were  in  ISO'.),  at  the  advice  of  a  Commission 
of  eminent  antiquaries,  successfully  cleaned  from  the, 
incrustation  which  had  old  iterated  their  original  gilding 
and  delicate  workmanship.  This  work,  which  was 
originated  for  the  Tudor  tombs,  by  Mr.  Layard,  was 


XVi  PREFACE. 

completed  for  the  Plantagenet  tombs  under  his  sue- 
cessor  Mr.  Ayrton 

The  Private  Monuments  of  the  sixteenth  arid  seven- 
teanth  centuries  offer  less  difficulty.  I  have  much 
pleasure  in  expressing  my  grateful  sense  of  the  prompti- 
tude with  which  the  Cecil,  llussell,  Sidney,  and  Lennox 
tombs  have,  by  the  noble  and  illustrious  Houses  which 
they  represent,  been  restored  to  their  original  splen- 
dour, yet  so  as  not  to  interfere  with  the  general  har- 
mony of  the  surrounding  edifice.  These  examples,  it  is 
hoped,  will  be  followed  up  generally. 

The  question  of  the  later  Monuments  is  sufficiently 
discussed  in  the  account  of  them  in  the  pages  of  this 
work.1  Doubtless,  some  rearrangement  and  reduction 
might  with  advantage  take  place.  But,  even  where  the 
objections  of  the  representatives  of  the  deceased  can  be 
surmounted,  constant  care  is  needed  not  to  disturb  the 
historical  associations  which  in  most  cases  have  given  a 
signih'cance  to  the  particular  spots  occupied  by  each. 
Each  must  thus  be  considered  on  its  own  merits.  One 
measure,  however,  will  sooner  or  later  become  indispen- 
sable, if  the  sepulchral  character  of  the  Abbey  is  to  be 
continued  into  future  times,  for  which,  happily,  the 
existing  arrangements  of  the  locality  give  ample  facili- 
ties. It  has  been  often  proposed  that  a  Cloister  should 
be  erected,  communicating  with  the  Abbey  by  the 
Chapter  House,  and  continued  on  the  site  of  the  present 
Abingdon  Street,  facing  the  Palace  of  Westminster  on 
one  side,  and  the  College  Garden  on  the  other.  Such  a 
building,  the  receptacle  not  of  any  of  the  existing  Monu- 

i  See  Chapter  IV. 


PREFACE.  xv  ii 

ments  (which  would  be  yet  more  out  of  place  there 
than  in  their  present  position),  but  of  the  Graves  and 
the  Memorials  of  another  thousand  years  of  English 
History,  would  meet  every  requirement  of  the  future, 
without  breaking  with  the  traditions  of  the  past. 

I  have  ventured  to  throw  out  these  suggestions,  as 
relating  to  improvements  which  depend  on  external 
assistance.  For  such  as  can  be  undertaken  by  our 
Collegiate  Body  —  for  all  measures  relating  to  the  con- 
servation and  repair  of  the  fabric,  and  to  the  extension 
of  the  benefits  of  the  institution  —  I  can  but  express 
my  confident  hope  that  they  will,  as  hitherto,  receive 
every  consideration  from  those  whose  honour  is  so 
deeply  involved  in  the  usefulness,  the  grandeur,  and 
the  perpetuity  of  the  venerable  and  splendid  edifice  of 
which  we  are  the  appointed  guardians,  and  which  lies 
so  near  our  hearts. 

June,  Ifc76. 


VOL.  I   — 6 


NOTE  TO  THE  FOURTH  ENGLISH  EDITION 

(WHICH  is  IN  ONE  VOLUME). 


IN  order  to  ease  the  bulk  of  this  volume,  I  have  omit- 
ted from  it  the  various  documents  which,  having  been 
printed  in  the  three  previous  Editions,  are  there  avail- 
able for  any  who  wish  to  refer  to  them,  but  are  hardly 
required  for  general  readers.  I  subjoin  a  list :  — 

CHAPTER   II. 

THE  CORONATION  STONE —  PAGE 

1.  Letter  from  the   late  Joseph  Robertson  on  the  Legend, 

with  Notes  of  Mr.  Skene  and  Mr.  Stuart      ....     587 

2.  Geological  Examination  of  it  by  Professor  Ramsay      .     .     594 

3.  Verses  on,  in  the  Time  of  James  1 597 

CHAPTER   III. 

I.  Ginve  ascribed  to  "Edward  the  Confessor 598 

II.  Burial  of  Henry  III 599 

III.  Removal  of  the  Body  of  John  of  Eltham 599 

IV.  BCKIAL  OK   HKNRY  VI. — 

(<i)    Depositions  of  Witnesses  concerning  the  burial     . 

(li)    Judgment  of  the  Privv  Council  on 

(c)  Expenses  for  the  Legal  Proceedings  of  the  Chapter 

of  Windsor  ...  (>12 

(</)  Indenture  of  Henry  VII.  with  the  Convent  of  West- 
minster for  the  Removal .  .  .  615 

(f)  Expenses  incurred  for  the  removal  of  from  Windsor 

to  Westminster filfi 

(/")  Letter  to  the  Archbishop  of  York,  forbidding  the 

Worship  of  Henry  VI.  at  York C>1" 


XX  NOTE. 

PAGE 

V.   James  I.'s  Letter  for  the  Removal  of  the  Remains  of  Mary 

Queeii  of  Scots  from  Peterborough 618 

CHAPTER  IV. 

I.   Account  of  the  Vault  of  Lennox,  Duke  of  Richmond  .     .  620 

II.   Account  of  the  Vault  of  Villiers,  Duke  of  Buckingham    .  624 

III.  Account  of  the  Vault  of  Monk,  Duke  of  Albcrmarle     .     .  628 

IV.  Account  of  the  'Cromwell,'  '  Monmouth,'  or  'Urmond' 

Vault 6GO 

V.   Warrant  for  the  Disinterinent  of  the  Parliamentarians     .  633 

VI.   The  Middle  Tread,  and  Ben  Jonson's  Gravestone     .     .     .  634 

CHAPTER  V. 

I.    Littlington's  Buildings 636 

II.    Orders  against  Wandering  Monks 636 

III.  Visit  of  the  Bohemian  Travellers  in  1477 638 

IV.  Records  of  the  early  Painters  of  the  Abbey 640 

V.   Relics  lent  to  the  Countess  of  Gloucester 641 

CHAPTER   VI. 

I.   Feckenham's  Speech  on  the  Right  of  Sanctuary  ....  642 

II.   Extracts  from  Strype's  edition  of  '  Stow's  Survey  '.     .     .  648 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

PREFACE vii 

NOTE  TO  THE  FOURTH  EDITION' xix 

LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS xxvii 

CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE  OF  EVENTS     ...         xxix 

GENERAL  DIMENSIONS  OF  THE  ABBEY  CHCUCH  .  xliii 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE    FOUNDATION    OF    WESTMINSTER    ABBEY. 

Natural  growth  of  the  Abbey,  3 

I.  Physical    Features   of    London    and    Westminster,   4. — The 

Thames,  the  Hills  and  Streams,  5.  —  The  Island  of  Thorns, 
7.— The  Spring,  11 

II.  Legends  :     Temple  of  Apollo,  11.  —  Church  of  Lucius,  12.  — 

Church  of  Sebert  A.D.  616;  his  Grave,  13.  —  Monastery  of 
Edgar,  14 

III.  Historical    Origin,    15.  —  EDWARD    THE    CONFKSSOK  :     his 
Outward  Appearance,   15;  his  Character,  16.  —  The   Last  of 
the  Saxons,  the  First  of  the  Normans,  17,  18 

His  motives  in  the  Foundation  of  the  Abbey;  1.  Con- 
secration at  Reims ;  2.  Situation  of  Thorney  ;  3.  Devotion 
to  St.  Peter,  19.  —  His  Vow,  19.  —  Connection  of  the  Abbey 
with  the  name  of  St.  Peter,  21.  —  Legend  of  the  Hermit 
of  Worcester,  23.  —  of  Edric  the  Fisherman,  24.  —  of  the 
Cripple,  27. — of  the  Apparition  in  the  Sacrament,  27 

Palace  of  Westminster,  28. — Journey  to  Koine,  29. — 
Building  of  the  Abbey,  30 

End  of  the  Confessor.  Legend  of  the  Vision  of  the  Seven 
Sleepers,  33. — of  the  Pilgrim,  33. — Dedication  of  the  Abbey 
(Dec.  28,  1065),  35.  — Death  of  the  Confessor  (Jan.  5,  lotitij, 
and  Burial  (Jan.  6),  37 


xxii  CONTENTS. 

Effects  of  his  Character  on  the  foundation,  39.  —  Its  Con- 
nection with  the  Conquest, '!0. —  with  the  English  Constitu- 
tion, 42.  —  Legend  of  \Vulfstan,  42.  —  Uayeux  Tapestry,  43 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE    CORONATIONS. 

The  Rite  of  Coronation,  49.  —  The  Scene  of  the  English  Coronations, 
52. —  Coronation  of  WILLIAM  THE  CONQUEROR  (Dec.  25,  1066), 
53.  —  Connection  of  Coronations  with  the  Abbey,  56  ;  the  Regalia, 
56.  —  Coronation  Privileges  of  the  Abbots  and  Deans  of  West- 
minster, 58  ;  of  the  Archbishops  of  Canterbury,  59  ;  Coronation  of 
Matilda  (May  11,  1067),  60 

Coronation  of  WILLIAM  RITFUS  (Sept.  26,  1087),  60;  of  HENRY  T. 
(Aug.  5,  1100),  60;  of  Maude  (Nov.  10,  1100),  62;  of  STEPHEN 
(Dec.  26,  1135),  62;  of  HENRY  II.  (Dec.  19,  1154),  63  ;  of  his  son 
Henry  (June  14,  1170),  63,  and  its  results,  64  ;  of  RICHARD  I. 
(Sept.  3,  1189),  64,  and  its  disasters,  65  ;  his  Second  Coronation 
(1194),  67;  Coronation  of  JOHN  (May  27,  1199),  67;  the  Cinque 
Po-ts,  68.  —  Two  Coronations  of  HENRY  III.  (Oct.  28,  1216; 
May  17,  1220),  68,  69;  Abolition  of  Lord  High  Stewardship, 
70.  —  Coronation  of  EDWARD  I.  and  Eleanor  (Aug.  19,  1274),  71 

The  CORONATION  STONE,  71:  Installation  of  Kings,  71. — Legend 
and  History  of  the  Stone  of  Scone,  73-75.  —  its  Capture,  75.  —  its 
Retention  aid  Use,  77.  —  Prediction  concerning,  78. — its  In- 
terest; the  '  Spectator';  Goldsmith,  79,  80 

Coronation  of  EDWARD  II.  (Feb.  25,  1308),  81  ;  of  EDWARD  III.  (Feb. 
1,  1327),  82  ;  of  Philippa  (Feb.  2,  1328),  82  ;  the  Shield  and  Sword 
of  State;  Coronation  of  RICHARD  II.  (July  16,  1377);  the  Liber 
Regalis;  the  Procession  from  the  Tower;  the  Knights  of  the 
Bath,  82,  83;  the  Champion,  83.  —  Coronation  of  HENRY  IV. 
(Oct.  13,  1399)  ;  the  Election,  85.  —  The  Ampulla,  85.  — Corona- 
tion of  Queen  Joan  (Feb.  26,  1403);  of  HENRY  V.  (April  9, 
1413),  86;  and  of  Catherine  (Feb.  24,  1420),  87;  of  HENRY  VI. 
(Nov.  6,  1429);  and  of  Margaret  (April  30,  1445)  ;  of  EDWARD 
IV.  (June  29,  1466),  87.  —  Preparations  for  the  Coronation  of 
EDWARD  V.  (June  22,  1483),  88  ;  Coronation  of  RICHARD  III. 
(July  6,  1483),  88  ;  of  HENRY  VII.  (Oct.  30,  1485),  89;  of  Eliza- 
beth of  York  (Nov.  25, 1487)  ;  the  Yeomen  of  the  Guard  ;  Corona- 
tion of  HENRY  VIII.  (June  24,  1509),  89,  90;  of  Anne  Boleyn 
(June  1,  1533),  90-95;  of  EDWARD  VI.  (Feb.  20,  1546),  95.— 
Cranmer's  Address,  97.  —  Coronation  of  Queen  MARY  (Oct.  I, 
1553),  98-100;  of  Queen  ELIZABETH  (Jan.  15,  1559),  100- 


CONTENTS.  xxiil 

102;  of  JAMES  I.  (July  25,  1603),  103;  of  CHARLES  I.  (Feb. 
2,  1625-26),  104-106 

Installation  of  CROMWELL  (June  26,  1657),  107 

Coronation  of  CHARLES  II.  (April  23,  1661),  107-1 10;  of  JAMES  II. 
(April  23,  1685),  110-112;  of  WILLIAM  AND  MARY  (April  11, 
1689);  Sanction  of  Parliament,  112-115.  —  Coronation  Oath 
changed,  1 13. —  Coronation  of  Queen  ANNE  (April  23,  1702),  115 

Coronation  of  GEORGE  I.  (Oct.  20,  1714),  116.  —  Reconstruction  of  the 
Order  of  the  Bath,  117.  —  Installation  of  Knights,  119.  —  Lord 
Dundonald's  Banner,  120 

Coronation  of  GEORGE  II.  (Oct.  11,  1727),  121  ;  of  GEORGE  III.  (Sept. 
22,  1761),  121;  withdrawal  of  the  claims  to  the  Kingdom  of 
France,  124  ;  appearance  of  Prince  Charles  Edward  at  the  Corona- 
tion, 126.  Coronation  of  GEORGE  IV.  (July  19,  1821),  126.  —  At- 
tempted Entrance  of  Queen  Caroline,  128,  129. —  Coronation  of 
WILLIAM  IV.  (Sept.  8,  1831),  its  Curtailment,  130. — Coronation 
of  QUEEN  VICTORIA  (June  28,  1838),  130. —  Conclusion,  131- 
134 

CHAPTER   III. 

THE    ROYAL    TOMBS. 

On  the  Tombs  of  Kings  generally,  137.  —  Peculiarities  of  in  the 
Abbey:  1.  In  combination  with  Coronations,  138;  2.  with  the 
Palace,  139  ;  3.  Importance  of  the  Royal  Deaths,  141  ;  4.  Pub- 
licity of  the  Funerals,  142  ;  5.  Connection  of  Burials  with  the 
Services  of  the  Church,  142 

Beginning  of  Royal  Burials  :  —  Sebert,  Ethelgoda,  Harold  Harefoot, 
EDWARD  THE  CONFESSOR,  144;  Norman  Kings  buried  at  Caen, 
Winchester,  Reading,  Faversliam,  Fontevrault,  Worcester,  144, 
145;  MACD  (May  1,  1118),  146.  —  First  Translation  of  the  Coii- 
fessor  (Oct.  13,  1163),  148 

HENRY  III.  — his  Foundation  of  the  Lady  Chapel  (1220),  149. — 
characteristics  of  his  Reign ;  his  English  feelings ;  his  imitation 
of  St.  Denys ;  his  devotion;  his  addiction  to  Foreign  Arts;  his 
extravagance,  150-154.  — Demolition  of  the  Old  and  Building  of 
the  New  Church,  155,  156.  —  The  Confessor's  Shrine,  156. — 
Second  Translation  of  the  Confessor  (Oct.  13,  1269),  159. —The 
Relics,  159. —  His  Death  (Nov.  16),  Burial  (Nov.  20,  1272),  and 
Tomb,  161.  —  Delivery  of  his  Heart  to  the  Abbess  of  Fontevrault 
(1291),  162 

Family  of  Henry  III. — Princess  Catherine  (1257),  Prince  Henry 
(1271),  163;  William  do  Valence  (1296),  Edmund  Earl  of  Lanca* 
ter  (1296),  and  Avcline  his  Wife  (1273),  164,  165 


xxiv  CONTENTS. 

Eleanor  of  Castile  (1291).  —  Alfonso  (1284),  100,  107;  EDWARD  T. 
(1307), his  'loinb  anil  Inscription,  1G7,  168. — opening  of  'lorn!) 
(1771),  109. —EDWARD  II. 's  Tomb  at  Gloucester  (1327). —John 
of  Eltham  (1334),  170,  171  ;  Aymer  de  Valence  (1323),  171 

Philippa  (1309),  172;  EDWARD  III.  (1377),  bis  Tomb,  Children, 
Sword  and  Shield,  172,  173;  Relics  from  France;  the  Black 
Prince,  174 

RICHARD  II.  —  his  Affection  for  the  Abbey,  and  Marriage,  174;  his 
Badge  and  Portrait,  175.  —  his  Wife's  Burial  and  Tomb  (1394- 
95),  170,  177.  —  his  Burial  at  Langley  (1399),  and  Removal  to 
Westminster  (1413),  178.  —  Thomas  of  Woodstock  and  his  Wife, 
Philippa  of  York,  179 

HOUSE  OF  LANCASTER. 

HENRY  IV.  buried  at  Canterbury ;  HENRY  V.  's  Interest  in  the 
Abbey,  completion  of  the  Nave,  179,  180.  —  his  Death  and  Funeral 
•(1422),  180,  181.  — his  Tomb,  182.  —  his  Saddle  and  Helmet, 
184,  185.  — his  Statue,  185.  —  Catherine  of  Valois  (1437),  180, 
187.  —  HENRY  VI.  visits  the  Abbey  to  fix  the  place  of  his  sepul- 
ture, 187.  —  Withdrawal  of  the  York  Dynasty  to  Windsor,  190.  — • 
Margaret  of  York  (1472),  Anne  of  Warwick  (1485),  Anne  Mow- 
bray  of  York,  190,  191 

Claims  of  Windsor,  Chertsey,  and  Westminster  for  the  burial  of 
HENRY  VI.,  191.  — Origin  of  the  CHAPEL  OF  HENRY  VII.,  193, 
194.— The  Chantry;  the  Saints,  194,  195. —  'I  lie  close  of  the 
Middle  Ages  and  of  the  Wars  of  the  Roses  ;  revival  of  the  Celtic 
Races,  190,  197. — The  Beginning  of  Modern  England,  198. — 
Death  of  Elizabeth  of  York  (1503),  199  ;  of  HENRY  VII.  (1509), 
200  ;  his  Burial  and  Tomb,  200  ;  Tomb  of  Margaret  of  Richmond 
(1509),  201,  202  — Marriage  Window  of  Prince  Henry,  Intended 
Tomb  of  HENRY  VIII.,  20.'!,  204 

The  REFORMATION  in  the  Abbey,  205.  —  Funeral  of  Edward  VI 
(1553),  200.— his  Tomb,  208;  Anne  of  Cloves  (1557),  Queen 
MARY  I.  (1558),  208,  209. — Obsequies  of  Charles  V., '  Emperor 
of  Rome'  (1558),  209 

Queen  ELI/AHETH  (1003),  and  Tomb,  210,  211.  —  Tombs  of  the 
Stuarts;  Margaret  Lennox  (1577),  212. — Charles  Lennox. — 
MARY  STUART  (1587),  213.  —  End  of  the  Royal  Monuments, 
214 

Tombs  of  Princesses  Mary  and  Sophia  (1007),  210;  Graves  of  Prince 
Henry,  Arabella  Stuart,  217;  Anne  of  Denmark  (1019),  .JAMES 
I.  (1025),  218;  Prince  Charles  (1029),  and  Princess  Anne 
(1040),  219 


CONTENTS.  XXV 

The  COMMONWEALTH: — The  Family  of  Cromwell,  220;  OLIVER 
CKOMWELL,  Elizaheth  Claypole  (1658),  220.  —  Disinterment  of 
Cromwell's  Remains,  223 

The  RESTORATION: — Intended  Tomb  of  CHARLES  I.,  224;  Henry 
Duke  of  Gloucester  (1660),  Mary  of  Orange  (1660),  Elizabeth 
of  Bohemia  (1661),  Prince  Rupert  (1682),  225;  illegitimate  Sons 
of  Charles  II.  ;  CHARLES  II.  (1685),  226 

Death  of  JAMES  II.  (1701),  and  his  Children,  228;  WILLIAM  III. 
(1702),  227.  — MARY  II.  (1694),  229. —Queen  ANNE  (1714)  and 
Prince  George  of  Denmark  (1708),  230 

The  HOUSE  OF  HANOVER,  231.  —  GEORGE  II.  (1760)  and  Caroline  of 
Anspach  (1737),  231,  and  their  Family,  234;  GEORGE  III.'s 
Vault  at  Windsor,  234.  —  Antony,  Duke  of  Montpensier  (1807), 
236;  Lady  Augusta  Stanley  (1876),  239;  Arthur  Penrhyu  Stan- 
ley, Dean  of  Westminster  (1881),  239 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    MONUMENTS. 

Peculiarity  of  the  Tombs  at  Westminster,  243. — Comparison  of  the 
Abbey  with  the  church  of  Santa  Croce  at  Florence,  245.  —  Result 
of  the  Royal  Tombs,  246 

Burials  in  the  Cloisters  :  —  llugolin,  Geoffrey  of  Mandeville,  247,  248.  — 
First  Burials  within  the  Abbey,  248.  —  COURTIERS  OF  RICHARD 
II.  :  John  of  Walt  ham  (1395),  Golofre  (1396),  249;  Brocas  (1400), 
Waldeby  (1397),  250.  —  OF  HENRY  V.,  250. —  OF  EDWARD  IV., 
251.  — OF  HENRY  VII.,  251 

LADIES  OF  THE  TUDOR  COURT: — Frances  Grey  (1559),  253;  Anne 
Seymour  (1587);  Frances  Howard  (1598),  254;  Frances  Sidnev 
(1589),  255 

ELIZABETHAN  MAGNATES,  255. — Jano  Seymour  (1561),  Cntherine 
Knollys  (1568),  Sir  R.  Pecksall  (1571),  John  Lord  Russell,  and 
his  Daughter  (1584),  256,  257.  —  Winyfred  Brydges  (1586),  Brom- 
ley (1587),  Puckering  (1596),  259.  —  (  hven  (159S),  Lord  Hunsdon 
(1596),  260.— Lord  Burleigh  .and  his  Family  (1598),  261-266  ;  the 
Norris  Family,  269,  270  ;  William  Thyiine  (1584),  271 

FLEMISH  HEROES:  —  Sir  Francis  Vere  (1 609),  266;  Sir  George  Holies 
(1626),  I.)c  Burgh  (1594),  267,  268  ;  the  Norris  Family  (1598-1604), 
269,  270.  —  Bingham  (1598),  271 

COURTIERS  OF  JAMES  I.,  271. —  Duke  of  Richmond  (1623),  272 

COURTIERS  OF  CHARLES  I.,  274 :  —  The  Villiers  Family  (1605-1632), 
274-280.  —  Cranfield,  Karl  of  Middlesex  (1645),  280.  —  Lord  Cot 


XXVI  CONTENTS. 

tington   (1652),  281;   Sir  T.  Richardson  (1635),  283. —Thomas 
Cary  (1649),  283 

MAGNATES  OF  THE  COMMONWEALTH:  —  PYM  (1643),  284.  —  Earl  of 
Essex  (1646),  285.  — Popham  (1651),Dorislaus  (1749),  286, 287.— 
IRETON  (1651),  287.  —  BLAKE  (1657),  288.  —  BRADSHAW  (1659), 

290.  —  Their   Disinterment,    290.  —  Exceptions,    291  ;    Popham, 
Ussher,   Elizabeth   Cluypole,  Essex,  Grace  Scot,  George   Wild, 

291,  292 

THE  CHIEFS  OF  THE  RESTORATION  :  —  MONK  (1670),  MONTAGUE, 
Earl  of  Sandwich  (1672),  THE  ORMOND  VAULT,  293,  294;  Duke 
of  Ormond  and  his  Family  (1684-1688),  295.  — Hyde,  Earl  of 
Clarendon  (1674),  Bishop  Nicholas  Monk  (1661),  Bishop  Eerne 
(1662),  Bishop  Duppa  (1662),  296,  297 

HEROES  OF  THE  DUTCH  WAR,  298,  299 

Thomas  Thynne  (1681),  300.  —  Sir  E  B.  Godfrey  (1670),  T.  Chiffinch 
(1666),  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Newcastle  [Cavendish]  (1676-1677), 
300,  301.— Holies,  Duke  of  Newcastle  (1711),  303 

THE  REVOLUTION  OF  1688  :  —  The  Bentiuck,  Schomberg,  and  Temple 
Families  ;  Saville,  Marquis  of  Halifax  (1695),  304,  305.  —  STATES- 
MEN AND  COURTIERS  OF  QUEEN  ANNE  :  Montague,  Earl  of 
Halifax  (1715),  305.  —  Craggs,  305-307.  —  Godolphiu  (1712), 
308.  —  HEROES  OF  THE  WAR  OF  THE  SUCCESSION,  309,311. — 
Sir  Cloudesley  Shovel  (1707),  311.  —  THE  DUKE  OF  MARLBOR- 
OUGH,  mourning  of  Sarah  for  her  sou,  312,  313  ;  Funeral  of  the 
Duke  (1722),  314.  —  Sheffield,  Duke  of  Buckinghamshire,  and  his 
Family  (1721),  316-321 

STATESMEN  OF  THE  HOUSE  OF  HANOVER:  —  John  Duke  of  Argyll 
and  Greenwich  (1743),  322.  —  Wife  of  Sir  R.  Walpole  (1737),  323. 

—  Pulteney,  Earl  of  Bath  (1764),  324 

SOLDIERS  :  — Roubiliac's  Monument  to  Wade  (1748),  326.  — Hargrave 

(1750),  Fleming  (1751),  326 
SAILORS:  — Hardy  (1720),  Cornewall  (1743),  Tyrrell  (1766),  Wager 

(1743),  Vernon  (1751),  327,  328.  —  Lord  A.  Beauclerk  (1740),  328. 

—  Lord  Dundonald  (1860),  332 

INDIAN  AND  AMERICAN  WARS  :  —  WOLFE  (1759),  330.  —  Lord  Howe's 
Captains  (1794-),  331.  —  Rodney's  Captains  (1782),  Burgoyne 
(1792),  Andre  (1780),  331,  332.  —  Wilson,  Outram,  Clyde,  Pollock, 
334.  —  Franklin,  335 


LIST  OF   ILLUSTRATIONS. 


The  Coronation  Chair Vtynette  Title 

The  Abbejr To  face  xxi 

Plan  of  the  Abbey  and  its  precincts  about  A.  n.  1535      ....  6 
Keliefs  from  the  Frieze  of  the  Chapel  of  Edward  the 

Confessor :  — 

1.  The  Remission  of  the  Danegelt.  2.  The  Pardon  of 
the  Thief.  3.  The  Shipwreck  of  the  King  of  Den- 
mark. 4.  The  Visit  to  the  Seven  Sleepers.  5.  St. 

John  and  the  Pilgrims 17 

Westminster  Hall  and  Abbey 29 

The  Abbey,  from  the  Bayeux  Tapestry 45 

The  Coronation  Stone 73 

Installation  of  the  Knights   of  the  Bath,  in    1812,  in   Henry 

VII.'s  Chapel 119 

Plan  of  the  Tombs  in  the  Chapel  of  the  Kings 157 

Queen  Eleanor's  Tomb , lot; 

Chantry  of  Henry  V J  83 

Helmet,  Shield,  and  Saddle  of  Henry  V.,  still  suspended  over 

his  Tomb 1X> 

Plan  of  the  Tombs  of  the  Abbey  in  1509 198 

Chapel  of  Henry  VII 199 


xxviii  LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Plan  of  the  Chapel  of  St.  Nicholas 262 

"  "  St.  John  the  Baptist 262 

"  St.  Paul 263 

"  "  St.  Edmund 263 

"          Chapels  of  St.  John  the  Evangelist,  St.  Michael,  and 

St.  Andrew 264 

Monument  to  Sir  Francis  Vere 267 

Plan  of  Buckingham  (Villiers)  Vault,  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel     .     .  275 

Man  of  the  Chapel  of  St.  Benedict 282 

Plan  of  General  Monk's  vault,  in  the  North  Aisle  of  Henry  VII.'s 

Chapel 294 

Plan  of  the  Nave    .     ,  ,    ...  310 


EXPLANATION   OF  THE   TYPES  AND   SIGNS   USED 
IN   THE   PLANS. 

Roman  capital  letters        indicate       .     .     .  Royal  persons 

"       smaller  ditto  "  ...  Military  and  Naval  men 

"       small  letters  "  ...  Literary  men 

"       ditto,  with  spaces  between  the  letters  Other  famous  personages 

Italic  capital  letters                 "             ...  Statesmen 
"   small  ditto                      "             ...  Ecclesiastics 
"             ...  Monuments 

II  "  .  Graven 


PHOTOGRAVURES. 

CHIEFLY  AFTER  ETCHINGS  BY  HERBERT  RAILTON. 


I'AGE 

The  Abbey Frontispiece 

The  Abbey  from  the  Dean's  Park        3 

Henry  VII. 's  Chapel  (exterior) 89 

The  Confessor's  Chapel 133 

Henry  VII. 's  Chapel  Tomb L'CO 

Chapel  and  Tomb  of  Mary  Oueen  of  Scots 1'12 

Dean  Stanley's  Tomb L39 

The  Interior  of  the  Nave                                                                       .  308 


'  The  Abbey  of  Westminster  hath  been  always  held  the  greatest 
sanctuary  and  randevou/.e  of  devotion  of  the  whole  island ;  where- 
unto  the  situation  of  the  very  place  seems  to  contribute  much,  and 
to  strike  a  holy  kind  of  reverence  and  sw  -etness  of  melting  piety 
in  the  hearts  of  the  beholders.' 

HOWELL'S  Perlustration  of  London  (1657),  p.  346. 


CHRONOLOGICAL    TABLE 


EVENTS  CONNECTED  WITH  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.1 


153?    Fall  of  the  Temple  of  Apollo  ? 
90-190  ?    Foundation  of  the  Abbey 

by  Lucius  ? 
616  ?    Foundation    by   Sebert   and 

Vision  of  Edric  ? 
785  V    Charter  of  Offa  ? 
<)51  ?          "       of  Edgar? 
104-2     Fulfilment     of    the     Vow     of 
Edward    the    Confessor    to 
St.  Peter. 

1049  Edwin,  Abbot. 
Embassy  to  Reims. 

1050  Foundation  of  the  Abbey. 

1065  Dedication  of  the  Abbey,  Dec. 

28. 

1066  Deatli  of  the  Confessor,  Jan.  5. 
Burial  of  the  Confessor,  Jan.  6. 
Coronation  of  Harold  (?),  Jan. 

6. 
Coronation    of    William     the 

Conqueror,  Dec.  25. 
1068     Coronation  of  Matilda,  May  11. 

OV;//rey,  Abbot. 
1009    Imprisonment       of      Egelric, 

Bishop  of  Durham. 
1072     Egelric  buried. 
l;)7ti     First  Council  of  Westminster 

under  Lanfranc. 
Miracle  of  Wolfstan's  Cro/ier. 
Vitnlif,  Abbot. 

1082     (JisMert,  Abbot. 


A.  D. 

1087     Coronation  of  William  Rums, 

Sept.  26. 

1098     Opening    of    the     Confessor's 
Coffin     by    Gundulph    and 

Gislebert. 
1100    Building    of    New   Palace   of 

Westminster. 

Coronation  of  Henry  I.,  Aug.  5. 
"         of  Matilda,  Nov. 11. 
1102     Council  under  Anselm. 
1115     Consecration       of       Bernard, 

Bishop  of  St.  David's,  Sept. 

19. 

1118     Burial  of  Matilda,  May  1. 
1120     Herbert,  Abbot. 

Consecration  of  David  of  Ban- 

gor,  April  4. 

1124     Council  under  John  of  Crema. 
1135    Coronation   of   Stephen,    Dec. 

26. 

1140     Gerrasc,  Abbot. 
1154     Coronation  of  Henry  II.,  Dec. 

1!». 

1160     Lawrence,  Abbot. 
116-')     Canonisation  of  the  Confessor, 

and  First  Translation  of  his 

Remains,  Oct.  13. 
1170     Coronation   of   Prince  Henry, 

June  14. 
1176     Council  of  Westminster,    and 

Stru<;icle  of  the  Primates. 


1  When  tlir.  table  contains  reformer  to  tlir  burial  of  illustrious  IICI-SIMIS  in  th 
Abbey,  the  date  of  their  burial  is  given  ;  where  they  have  only  cenotaphs,  then  ti 
date  of  their  death. 


XXX 


CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE. 


A.  D. 

1180     Consecration  of  Hugh  of  Lin- 
coln, Sept.  21. 

Consecration  of  William  of 
Worcester,  Sept.  21. 

1189    Coronation  of  Richard  I.,  Sept. 

3. 

Consecration  of  Hubert  of 
Salisbury  and  Godfrey  of 
Winchester,  Oct.  22. 

1191     Postrtrd,  Abbot. 

1194  Consecration    of    Herbert    of 

Salisbury,  June  5. 

1195  Trial  between  the  Archbishop 

of  Canterbury  and  the  Abbot. 

1197  Consecration  of  Robert  of  Ban- 

gor,  March  10. 

1198  Consecration  of  Eustace  of  Ely, 

March  8. 

1199  Consecration    of    William    of 

London,  May  23. 
Coronation  of  John,  May  27. 

1200  fapillon,  Abbot. 
Consecration  of  John  Gray  of 

Norwich,  Sept.  24. 
Consecration  of   Giles   Braose 

of  Hereford,  Sept.  24. 
1203     Consecration   of    William    de 
Blois  of  Lincoln  before  the 
High  Altar,  Aug.  24. 
Consecration    of    Geoffrey    of 

St.  David's,  Dec.  7. 
1214     fhimez,  Abbot. 

1220  Foundation   of  Lady   Chapel, 

May  10. 

Coronation  of  Henry  III.,  Mav 
17. 

1221  Consecration    of    Eustace    of 

London,  April  25. 

1222  Bfirklnr/.  Abbot. 

1224    Consecration       of       William 

Brewer  of  Kxeter,  April  21 
Consecration  of  Ralph  Neville 

of  Chichester,  April  21. 
1226     Consecration  of  Thomas  Blun- 

ville  of  Norwich,  Dec.  20. 
1230    Marriage  of   Henry   III.   and 

Eleanor,  Jan.  14. 

1244  Council  of  State  held  in  Refec- 

tory. 

1245  Rebuilding  of  the  Abbey  b 

Henry  III. 


A.  D. 

1246  Crokesley,  Abbot. 

1247  Fulk  de  Castro  Novo  buried. 
Deposition  of  Relics. 

1250    Chapter  House  begun. 

Richard  of  Wendover,  Bishop 
of  Rochester,  buried. 

1252     Excommunication     of    Trans- 
gressors of  Magna  Charta. 

1256  Parliament    met    in    Chapter 

House,  March  26. 
Council   of    State   in   Chapter 
House. 

1257  Princess  Catherine  buried. 

1258  Letcisham,  Abbot 
Wart,  Abbot. 

1261     Ford,    Abbot  of  Glastonbury, 

buried. 
1263     Commons  of  London  assemble 

in  Cloisters. 
1267     Mosaic  Pavement  brought  from 

Rome. 
1209     Second  Translation  of  Edward 

the  Confessor,  Oct.  13. 
Marriage  of  Edmond  and  Ave- 

liue,    Earl   and  Countess  of 

Lancaster. 

1271  Heart  of  Prince  Henry,Nephew 

to    the    King,    placed   near 
Confessor's  Tomb. 

1272  Burial  of  Henry  III.,  Nov.  20. 

1273  Aveline  of  Lancaster  buried. 

1274  Coronation   of  Edward  I.  and 

Eleanor,  Aug.  19. 

1281     Erection  of  the  Tomb  of  Henry 
III. 

1284  Wcnlocl;  Abbot. 
Dedication  of  Coronet  of  Llew- 
elyn to  the  Confessor. 

Prince  Alfonso  buried,  Aug  14. 

1285  Statute  '  Circumspecte  Agatis.' 
1290     Council  of  Westminster.     Ex- 
pulsion  of    the    Jews  from 
England. 

1231     Reinterment  of  Henry  III.,  and 
Delivery  of  his  Heart  to  the 
Abbess  of  Fontevrault. 
Eleanor  of  Castile  buried,  Dec. 
17. 

1292    Withdrawal  of  Claims  by  John 
Baliol  in  Chapter  House. 

1294    Inundation  of  the  Thames. 


CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE. 


A.  D. 

1294    Assembly  of  Clergy  and  Lait\- 

in  Refectory. 

1296     William  of  Valence  buried. 
Edmund  Crouchback  buried. 
Dedication    of    the    Stone    of 

Scone. 
1303     Robbery  of  the  Treasury. 

1307  Burial  of  Edward  I.,  oJt.  27. 
Removal  of  Sebert. 

1308  Coronation  of  Edward  II.,  Feb. 

25. 

Kydynyton,  Abbot. 
1315  Curtlimjton,  Abbot. 
1323  Aymer  de  Valence  buried. 

1327  Coronation    of    Edward    III., 

Feb.  1. 

1328  Coronation   of  Plrilippa,    Feb. 

2. 
Writ  of  Edward  III.  requiring 

the  Abbot  of  Westminster  to 

give  up  the  Stone  of  Scone, 

Julv  21. 
1334     Henley,  Abbot. 

John  of  Elthain  buried, 

1344  Byrcheston,  Abbot. 

1345  Eastern  Cloister  finished. 

1348  The  Black    Death.     Burial  of 

twenty-six  Monks. 

1349  Lanyham,  Abbot. 

1350  Statute  of  Provisions  passed  in 

Chapter  House. 
Continuation     of     Nave    and 

Cloisters  by  Abbot  Langliam. 
1302     Littlinyton,  Abbot. 
1363     Negotiations   with     David    If. 

for   the    Restoration   of    the 

Stone  of  Scone. 
Rebuilding  of  Abbot's  House 

and  of  Jerusalem  Chamber, 

and  Building  of  South  and 

West    Cloisters,    by    Abbot 

Littlington. 
1360    Burial  of  Philippa. 

1376  Langham  buried. 

1377  Purchase  of  Tower  which  be- 

came the  Jewel   House,  and 
later  the   Parliament  OHice, 
by  Fdward  III. 
Burial  of  Edward  III. 
1377     Coronation  of  Richard  II.,July 
16. 


A.  D. 

1378    Murder  of  Cir  John  Hawle  in 

the  Abbey,  Aug.  11. 
Reopening  of  the  Abbey,  Dec. 
8. 

1381  Outrage  of  Wat  Tyler. 

1382  Marriage  of  Richard  II.  with 

Anne  of  Bohemia.  Jan.  22. 
1386  William  of  Colchester,  Abbot. 
1391  Walter  of  Leycester  buried. 

1393  Statute  of   Pnvmunire   passed 

in  Chapter  House. 

1394  Burial  of  Anne  of  Bohemia. 

1395  John  of  Waltham  buried. 

1396  Shackle  buried. 

Sir  John  Golofre  buried. 

1397  Prince  Thomas  of  Woodstock 

buried. 
Robert  Waldeby  buried. 

1399  Widow   of   Thomas  of  Wood- 

stock buried. 

Sir  Bernard  Brocas  buried. 

Coronation  of  Henry  IV.,  Oct. 
13. 

Conspiracy  of  William  of  Col- 
chester. 

1400  Chaucer  buried. 
1403     Coronation  of  Joan. 

1413  Death  of   Henry  IV.  in  Jeru- 

salem Chamber,  March  20. 
Conversion  of  Henry  V. 
Coronation  of  Heurv  V.,  April 

9. 
Removal  of  body  of  Richard  II. 

from  Laugley  to  Windsor. 
1413-1410  Prolongation  of  the  Nave 

under   Henry  V.   by   Whit- 

tington. 

1414  Sir  John  Windsor  buried. 

1415  Richard   Courtney,    Bishop   of 

Norwich,  buried. 
Te  Deum  for  the  Battle  of  Agin- 
court,  Nov.  23. 

1421  Coronation  cf   Catherine,  Feb. 

24. 

Ilatcerden,  Abb/it. 
Convention    of    Henry    V.    in 

Chapter  House. 

1422  Burial  of  Henry  V.,  Nov.  7. 
1429     Coronation  of  Henry  VI.,  Nov. 

6. 
1431     Louis  Rob?art  buried. 


XXX11 


CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE. 


A.  P. 

1433    Philippa,   Duchess    of    York, 
buried. 

1437    Burial  of  Catherine  of  Valois, 
Feb.  8. 

1440     Kyrton,  Abbot. 

1445     Coronation  of  Margaret,  April 
30. 

1457     Sir. John  Harpedon  buried. 

1451-14GO     Visits  of  Henry  VI.  to  the 
Abbey  to  choose  his  Grave. 

1461     Coronation     of   Edward    IV., 
June  28. 

14GG     Norwich,  Abbot. 

1409     Milling,  Abbot. 

1470     Humphrey  Bourchier  buried. 
Lord  Carew  buried. 
Elizabeth      Woodville     takes 

Sanctuary,  Oct.  1. 
Edward  V.  born  in  the  Sanc- 
tuary. Nov.  4. 

1472     Infant     Margaret      of     York 
buried,  Dec.  11. 

1474    Milling  consecrated   to  Here- 
ford   in   the   Lady  Chapel, 
Aug.  21. 
Esteney,  Abbot. 

1477     Caxton  exercises  his  Art  in  the 
Abbey. 

1482  Dudley."   Bishop   of    Durham, 

buried. 

1483  Elizabeth        Woodville       and 

Richard  of  York  take  refuge 
in  the  Abbot's  Hall,  and  t;ike 
Sanctuary  a  second  time, 
April. 

Coronation    of     Richard   III., 
July  0. 

1485     Anne  Neville,  Queen  of  Rich- 
ard III.,  buried. 
Coronation  of  Henry  VII.,  Oct. 
30. 

1487     Coronation     of    Elizabeth     of 
York,  Nov.  25. 

1491  Caxton    buried    in    St.    Mar- 

garet's Churchyard. 

1492  Bishop  Milling  buried. 

1495     Princess      Elizabeth      buried, 

Sept. 
1498    Fascet,  Abbot. 

Lord    Wells    buried  in   Lady 
Chapel. 


i  A.  r>. 
1498     Decision  ot  the  Privv  Council 

on  the  burial  of  Henry  VI. 
1500     Islip,  Abbot. 

1503  Foundation   of  Henry    VII. 's 

Chapel,  Jan.  24. 
Burial   of   Elizabeth  of  York, 
Feb.  25. 

1504  Licence  of  Pope  Julius  II.  for 

the  removal  of   the  bodv  of 
Henry  VI.  to  Westminster. 

1505  Sir  Humphrey  Stanley  buried. 
1507     Sir  Giles  Daubeney  buried. 
1509     Infant  Prince  Henrv  buried. 

Burial  of  Henry  VII.,  May  9. 
Coronation   of    Henry    VIII., 

June  24. 

Margaret  of  Richmond  buried. 
1512    Attempt  to   rescue  a  Prisoner 

in  Sanctuary. 
1515     Reception    of    Wolsey's   Hat, 

Nov.  18. 
1523     Convocation     summoned     by 

Wolsey. 
Ruthell,   Bishop   of    Durham, 

buried. 

1529     Convocation    in    the    Chapter 
House. 

1531  Act  of  Submission,  April  12. 
Death  of  Skelton  in  the  Sanc- 
tuary,  buried    in    St.    Mar- 
garet's Churchyard. 

1532  Abbot  Islip  burie'd. 
Boston  or  Benson,  Abbot. 

1533  Coronation   of   Anne   Boleyn, 

June  1. 

1534  Imprisonment  of   Sir  Thomas 

More  in  Abbot's  House. 

1539  Benson,  Dean. 

1540  Convocation    in    the    Chapter 

House   on  Anne   of  Cleves, 
July  7. 

Consecration  of  Thirlby  to  the 
see  of  Westminster,  Dec.  19. 

1542  First  Orders  of  Dean  and  Chap- 

ter. 

1543  Nowell,  Head-Master. 

1544  Bellringer  appointed  at  request 

of  Princess  Elizabeth. 

1545  Consecration        of       Kitchin, 

Bishop  of  Llandaff,  May  3. 
Great  Refectory  pulled  down. 


CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE. 


XXXlll 


A.  D. 
1546 


1549 


J551 


Robbery  of   Silver    Head    of 

Statue  of  Henry  V.,  Jan.  3. 
Last   Sitting  of  Commons  in 

Chapter  House,  Jan.  28. 
Coronation    of    Edward    VI., 

Feb.  20. 
Chapter     House     used    as    a 

Record  Office. 
Order    for    Twenty    Tons    of 

Caen  Stone  granted  to   the 

Protector  Somerset. 
Order  for  selling  '  Monuments 

of  Idolatry,'  and  for  buying 

Books. 

Dean  Benson  buried. 
Cox,  Dean. 
Substitution  of  'Communion' 

for    '  Mass,'  and   change  of 

Vestments. 
Lord  AVentworth  buried,  March 

7. 

Redmayne  buried. 
Monument  erected  to  Chaucer. 
Burial   of  Kdward   VI.,   Aug. 


Coronation  of  Mary,  Oct.  1. 
Flight  of  Cox. 
IVtston,  Dean. 

1554  High  Mass  for  opening  of  Par- 

liament, Oct.  5. 
High  Mass  of  the  Order  of  the 
Golden  Fleece,  Nov.  -30. 

1555  Abbot    Feckenham     installed, 

Nov.  22. 
Feckenham     and    his    Monks 

walk  in  procession,  Dec.  G. 
Shrine  of  the  Confessor  set  up, 

Jan.  5. 
Remains  of  the  Confessor  re- 

stored to  the  Shrine,  March 

20. 
Sermons  by  Abbot  Feckenham, 

April  5. 
Shrine  visited   by  the  Duke  of 

Muscovv,  April  21. 
Philip  and  Mary  attend  Mass, 

May  22. 
Hurialof  Anne  of  Cleves,  Aug. 

4. 
Master  Gennings  buried,  Nov. 

20. 

VOL.   I.  —  C 


1557 


A.  D. 

1557 


1558 


1559 


1EGO 


1501 


1563 


15G6 

1508 

1571 
1574 
1575 

1577 
1580 

1584 
1580 

1587 

1588 
1589 


Procession  in  the  Abbey,  Nov. 
30. 

Paschal  Candle  restored.March 
21. 

Master  Wentworth  buried,  Oct. 
22. 

Burial  of  Mary,  Dec.  13. 

Obsequies  of  Charles  V.  cele- 
brated, Dec.  24. 

Coronation  of  Elizabeth,  Jan. 
15. 

Conference  between  Protes- 
tants and  Roman  Catholics, 
March  31. 

Frances  Grey,  Duchess  of  Suf- 
folk, buried  Dec.  5. 

Feckenham  deprived,  Jan.  4. 

Feckenham's  Farewell  to  the 
College  Garden. 

Feckenham  sent  to  the  Tower, 
May  20. 

Bill,  'Dean. 

Dean  Bill  buried,  July  22. 

Gabriel  Goodman,  Dean. 

Convocation  in  Henry  VII. 's 
Chapel,  Jan.  9-April  17. 

Signature  of  the  Thirty-nine 
Articles,  Jan.  29. 

Fall  of  the  Sanctuary. 

Hangings  of  the  Abbey  given 
to  the  College. 

Lady  Catherine  Knoll  vsburied. 

Anne  Birkhead  buried. 

Sir  R.  Pecksall  buried. 

Library  founded. 

Christening  of  Elizabeth  Rus- 
sell. 

Margaret  Lennox  buried. 

Maurice  Pickering,  Keeper  of 
Gatehouse. 

Win.  Thynne  buried. 

John,  Lord  Russell,  buried. 

Wiiiyfred  Bridges,  Marchion- 
ess of  Winchester,  buried. 

Anne  Seymour,  Duchess  of 
Somerset,  buried. 

Sir  Thomas  liromley  buried. 

AnneVere,  ( 'ountess  of  Oxford, 
buried. 

Frances  Sidney,  Countess  of 
Sussex,  buried. 


XXXIV 


CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE. 


A.  D. 

158!) 


1591 


1593 


1594 
1590 


1599 
1601 


1602 
1003 


1605 
1607 


1609 
1610 


1612 
1614 


Mildred  Cecil,  Lad}'  Burlcigh, 

buried. 
Frances  Howard,  Countess  of 

Sussex,  buried. 
Elizabeth,  Countess   of  Salis- 
bury, buried. 
Elizabeth,  Countess  of  Exeter, 

buried. 

Camden,  Head-Master. 
Keeper  appointed  for  theMonu- 

nients. 

John  de  Burgh  died. 
Lord  Hunsdon  buried. 
Sir  John  Puckering  buried. 
Henry  Noel  buried. 
Frances  Howard,  Countess  of 

Hertford,  buried. 
Bell*  given  by  Dean  Goodman. 
Sir  Thomas  Owen  buried. 
Lord  Burleigh  buried. 
Sir  R.  Binghain  died. 
Spenser  buried. 
Schoolroom  constructed. 
Elizabeth  Kussell  buried. 
Dean  Goodman  buried. 
L.  Andrewes,  Dean. 
Monument    to     Henry,     Lord 

Norris,  and  his  Sons. 
Consecration       of       Goodwin, 

Bishop  of  Llandaff,  Nov.  22. 
Entire  Suppression  of  Sanctu- 

arv  lights. 

Burial  of  Elizabeth,  April  28. 
Coronation  of  James  I.,  Julv 

25. 

Meeting  of  Convocation. 
R.  Ntule,  Dtan,  Nov.  5. 
Sir  G.  "Villiers  buried. 
Infant  Princess  Sophia  buried. 
Infant  Princess  Mary  buried. 
Sir  Francis  Vere  buried. 
Georye  Monteigne,  Di\«<,. 
Transference   of   the  Body  of 

Man-  Stuart  to  Westminster, 

Oct.~4. 
Henry    Frederick,    Prince    of 

Wales,  buried  in  her  vault, 

Dec.  8. 

Isaac  Casaubon  buried. 
Lady     C.    St.    John    buried. 

(Monument.) 


A.  D. 

1615  Arthur  Agarde  buried,  Aug.  24. 
Arabella  Stuart  buried,  Sept. 

27. 

1616  Beaumont  buried. 
Bilson  buried. 

1017     Talbot,    Earl   of   Shrewsbury, 

buried. 

R.  Toiitison,  Dean. 
1618     Sir  George  Fane  buried. 

Sir  W.  Ralegh  imprisoned  in 

Gatehouse,  Oct.  29. 
Sir  W.    Ralegh  buried  in  St. 
Margaret's,  Oct.  30. 

1019  Sir  Christopher  Hatton  buried. 
Monument  erected  to  Spenser. 
Burial  of   Anne  of  Denmark, 
May  13. 

1020  John  William*,  Dean. 

1621  Bishop  Tounson  buried. 
Lawrence  the  servant  buried. 

1622  Francis  Holies  died. 
Thomas  Cecil,  Earl  of  Exeter, 

buried. 

1623  Camden  buried,  Nov.  10. 

1624  Lewis  Stuart,  Duke  of  Lennox 

and  liichmond,  Feb.  17. 

Entertainment  of  the  French 
Ambassadors  in  the  Jeru- 
salem Chamber,  Dec.  15. 

Their  attendance  at  the  dinner 
in  the  College  Hall. 

1625  Burial  of  James  I.,  May  5. 

1626  Coronation  of  Charles  I.,  Feb. 

2. 

Sir  Geo.  Holies  buried. 
162?     Charles,  Marquis  of  Bucking- 
ham,    Earl     of    Coventry, 
buried,  March  16. 

Philip  Fielding  buried,  Junell. 

1628  George  Villiers,  Duke  of  Buck- 

ingham, Sept.  28. 

1629  Lady  Jane  Clifford  buried. 
Infant  Prince  Charles,  May  13. 

1631     Sir  James    Fullerton    buried, 

Jan.  3. 
Michael  Drayton  buried. 

1032  Countess  of  Buckingham 
buried,  April  21. 

1633  Monument  to  Geo.  Villiers, 
Duke  of  Buckingham,  com- 
pleted. 


CHRONOLOGICAL   TABLE. 


XXXV 


A.  r>. 
1C35 


1637 


1638 


1639 


1640 


1641 


1642 


1644 


1645 


HI46 


Sir  Thomas  Richardson  buried. 

Wife  of  Casaubou  buried. 

Thomas  Parr  buried. 

Lilly's  Search  for  Treasure  in 
the  Cloisters. 

Imprisonment  of  Williams. 

Ben  Jonson  buried. 

Marchioness  of  Hamilton 
buried. 

Sir  Robert  Ayton  buried,  Feb. 
28. 

Jane  Crewe,  Heiress  of  the 
Pnlteneys,  buried. 

Archbishop  Spottiswoode  bur- 
ied, Nov.  29. 

Duchess  of  Richmond  buried. 

Williams  released. 

Convocation,  April  17-Mav29, 
in  Henry  VII. 's  Chapel 

Conference  in  JerusalemCham- 
ber. 

Attack  on  the  Abbev. 

Sir  Henry  Spelman  buried, 
Oct.  24." 

Williams  raised  to  the  See  of 
York. 

Meeting  of  Bishops  in  the  Jeru- 
salem Chamber. 

Williams'*  second  imprison- 
ment. 

Regalia  taken  from  the  Abbey 
and  broken  in  pieces. 

Williams's  second  release. 

Lord  Ilervey  buried. 

Assembly  of  Divines  opened, 
July  6. 

1'yni  buried.  Dec.  13. 

R.  Steicnrt,  Dean. 

Theodore  Paleologus  buried, 
May  :{. 

Col.  Mcldrum  buried. 

Col.  Boscawen  and  Col.  Carter 
buried. 

Crantield,  Lord  Middlesex, 
buried. 

Grace  Scot  buried. 

Commissioners  appointed  bv 
Parliament,  Nov.  18. 

Twiss  buried,  July  24. 

Robert  Devercux.  Marl  of 
Essex,  buried,  Oct.  22. 


A.  D. 

1648  Francis  Villiers,  youngest  Son 

of    Duke    of     Buckingham, 
buried,  July  10. 

1649  Assembly   of  Divines  closed, 

Feb.  22. 
Isaac  Dorislaus  buried,  June 

14. 
Thomas  Gary  buried. 

1650  Thomas  May  buried. 
George  Wild  buried,  June  21. 

1551     Ireton  buried,  Feb.  6. 

Col.  Popham  buried,  Aug. 
Thomas  Haselrig  buried,  Oct. 

30. 
Humphrey  Sahvev  buried,Dec. 

20. 

1653  Col.  Deane  buried,  June  24. 

1654  Strong  buried,  July  4. 

Col.   Mackworth  buried,  Dec. 

26. 

Elizabeth  Cromwell  buried. 
1G55     Sir  William  Constable  buried, 

June  21. 
Marshall  buried,  Nov.  23. 

1656  Archbishop     Ussher     buried, 

April  17. 
Jane  Disbrowe  buried. 

1657  Cromwell     installed     on    the 

Stone  of  Scone  in  Westmin- 
ster Hall,  June  26. 
Blake  buried. 

1658  Denis  Bond  buried. 
Elizabeth     Claypole     buried, 

Aug.  10. 
Burial  of  Cromwell,  Sept.  26. 

1659  Bradshaw  buried. 

1660  Juries,  D,-,ni. 

Henry,    Duke   of    Gloucester, 

buried,  Sept.  13. 
Thomas  Blagg  buried. 
Confirmation    of    Election    of 

Sheldon,  Bishop  of  London; 

Sannderson,      of      Lincoln; 

Morley,        of         Worcester; 

Henchman,     of    Salisbury  ; 

and  Grillith,  of   St.  Asaph, 

Oct.  28. 
Consecration  of  Lucv,  Bishop 

of    St.     David's;    Lloyd,    of 

Llandaff:    Gaiulen,  of    Kxc- 

ter;    Sterne,      of      Carlisle j 


xxxvi 


CHRONOLOGICAL   TABLE. 


Cosin,  of  Durham ;  Walton, 
of  Chester;  and    Lancy,   of 
Peterborough,  Dec.  2. 
16GO    Marv  of  Orange  buried,  Dec. 

29. 

1661  Consecration  of  Ironside, 
Bishop  of  Bristol;  Reynolds, 
of  Norwich;  Monk,  of  Here- 
ford; Nicholson,  of  Glouces- 
ter, Jan.  6. 

Disinterinent  of  Regicides, Jan. 
29. 

Coronation  of  Charles  II.,  April 
2-3. 

Convocation  in  Henry  VII. 'r 
Chapel,  May  16-Oct.  20. 

Thoma^  Smith  buried. 

Mother  of  Clarendon  buried. 

Disinterinent  of  Magnates  rf 
the  Commonwealth,  Sept.  12. 

Consecration  of  Fail-foul, 
Bishop  of  Glasgow;  Hamil- 
ton, of  Galloway;  Leighton, 
of  Dunblane;  Shs/pe,  of  St. 
Andrews,  Dec.  IJj. 

Bishop  Nicholas  iMonk  buried, 
Dec.  20. 

Heart  of  Esme  Lennox  buried. 
3662    Elizabeth  of  Bohemia  buried, 
Feb.  17. 

Upper  House-  of  Convocation  in 
Jerusalem  Chamber,  Feb. 
22. 

Feme,  Bishop  of  Chester, 
buried,  March  25. 

Duppa,  Bishop  of  Winchester, 
buried,  April  24. 

Henry  I.awes  buried,  Oct.  25. 

Consecration  ol'Earles,  Bishop 
of  Worcester,  Nov.  30. 

1663  Join  Dolben,  Dean. 

Paul  Thorndyke  and  Duall 
Pead  christened,  April  18. 

Robert  South,  Prebendary  and 
Archdeacon. 

Consecration  of  Barrow, Bishop 
of  Sodor  and  Man,  .Inly  5. 

1664  Consecration       of      Rainbow, 

Bishop  of  Carlisle,  July  10. 
16G5     School  removed  to  ( 'hiswick  on 
account  of  the  plague. 


A.  D. 
1605 


1606 


x  .  >r  .Q 

looo 


1009 

1070 


1671 
1672 


1673 
1G74 


1675 
10'.  1 


JG78 


Earl  of  MaiTooi-ough  buried. 
Lords  Muskerry  ai.d  i'aliuouth 

buried. 

Sir  K.  Broughtcr  buried. 
T.  Cnimnch  buried,  April  10. 
Su    Robert   Stapleton   buried, 

July  15. 

Berkeley  buried. 
William       Johnson      buried, 

March  12. 
Abraham  Cowley  buried,  Aug 

3. 
William      Davenant     buried^ 

April  9. 

John  Thorndyke. 
John  Deiiham  buried. 
Monk's  Wife,  Duchess  of  Allr- 

marle,  buried,  Feb.  28. 
Monk,    Duke    of    A.'btciiarle, 

buried,  April  29. 
Marriage  of    Sir   S.    Morland 

with  Carola  Harriett. 
Triplett  buried. 
Anne  Hyde,  Duchess  of  York, 

buried,  April  5. 
Ilarbord  and  Cotterill  died. 
Consecration       of      Carleton, 

Bishop  of  Bristol,  Fel).  11. 
Montague,  Earl  of  Sandwich, 

buried.  Ji.lv  3. 
Herbert      1'horndvke    buried, 

July  13. 

Sir  R.  Moray  buried,  July  6. 
Hamilicii,  Le  Neve,  Spragge, 

died. 
Earl  r,f  Doncaster  buried,  Feb. 

10, 

Carola  Morland  buried. 
Margaret    Lucas,    Duchess   of 

Newcastle,  buried,  Jan.  7. 
Earl  of  Clarendon  buried,  Jan. 

4. 

Sanderson  buried,  July  18. 
Christopher    Gibbons    buried, 

Oct.  24. 
William   Cavendish,  Duke   of 

Newcastle,  buried,  Jan.  22. 
Isaac  Barrow  buried.  May  7. 
Transference  of  the  York 

Princes  from  the  Tower. 
Sir  E.  Berrv  Godfrey  died. 


CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE. 


XXXV11 


A.  D. 

1079    Diana  Temple  buried,  March 

27. 

1G80    Anne  Morland  buried,  Feb.  24. 
Sir  Palmes  Fairborne  died. 
Earl  of  Plymouth  buried. 
Earl  of  Ossory  buried,  July  30. 
1G82    Thomas  Thynne  buried. 

Prince  Rupert  buried,  Dec.  20. 
1083     Sprat,  Dean. 
1684    Lord  Roscommon  buried,  Jan. 

24. 
Duchess   of  Ormonde   buried, 

July  24. 

1085    Burial  of  Charles  II.,  Feb.  14. 
Coronation  of  James  II.,  April 

23. 
Confessor's  Coffin  opened. 

1087  George  Villiers,  second  Duke 

of  Buckingham,  buried, June 
7. 

1088  Nicholas       Bagnall       buried, 

March  9. 

Reading  of  the  Declaration  of 
Indulgence  bv  Sprat,  May 
20. 

James  Butler,  Duke  of  Or- 
monde, buried,  Aug.  4. 

Jane  Lister  buried,  Oct.  7. 

Sermon  by  South,  Nov.  5. 

1089  Coronation     of     William   and 

Mary,  April  11. 

First  Chair  for  the  Queen's 
Consort. 

Aphara  Belm  buried  in  East 
Cloister,  April  20. 

Commission  lor  the  Revision  of 
the  Liturgy  in  Jerusalem 
Chamber,  Oct.  3-Xov.  18. 

Convocation,  Nov.  20-Uec.  14. 
1602     Shadwell  died. 

Sarah,    Duchess   of  Somerset, 

buried. 
1094     Lady  Temple  buried. 

Fire  in  the  Cloisters  and  burn- 
ing of   MSS.   in  Williams'* 
Library. 
1C'J5     Burial  of  Mary,  March  5. 

Wharton  buried,  March  11. 

Busby  buried,  April  5. 

George  Saville,  Marquis  of 
Halifax,  buried,  April  II. 


A.D. 

1095    Purcell  buried,  Nov.  20. 

Sir  Thomas  Duppa  died. 

Kuipe,  Head-Master. 
1697    Horneck  buried,  Feb.  4. 

Grace  Gethiu  buried. 

1699  Sir  William  Temple  buried. 

1700  John  Dryden  buried,  May  13. 
William,  Duke  of  Gloucester, 

buried,  Aug.  9. 

1701  Sir  Joseph  Williamson  buried, 

Oct.  14. 

1702  Burial   of  William  III.,  April 

12. 

Coronation  of  Anne,  April  23. 
Convocation,  Feb.  12-June  6. 
Duchess  of  Richmond  buried, 

Oct.  22. 

1703  St.  Evremond  buried,  Sept.  11. 
Mourning  of  the    Duchess   of 

Marlborougb  for  her  son. 

1704  Major  Creed  died. 

Tom    Brown    buried    in    East 

Cloister. 
1700     Colonel  Bingfield  died. 

1707  Admiral  Delaval  buried.  Jan. 

23, 

General  Killigrew  died. 
George   Stepney  buried,  Sept. 

22. 
Sir  Cloudeslcv  Shovel  buried, 

Dec.  -22. 

1708  Consecration  of  Dawes,  Bishop 

of  Chester,  Feb.  8. 
Josiah  Twysden  buried. 
Methuen  buried. 
Blow  buried,  Oct.  8. 
Prince     George    of    Denmark 

buried,  Nov.  ]3. 

1709  Ileneage  Twysden  died. 
Bentinek,   Duke   of   Portland, 

buried. 

1710  Bettertoii  buried.  May  2. 
Admiral  Churchill  buried,  May 

12. 

Spaiihcim  buried. 
Mary  Kendall  buried. 
John  Phillips  died. 

1711  Grabcdii-d. 

( 'artcret  buried. 
Kuipe  hurieil. 
Freind,   Ilead-Ma>ter. 


XXXV111 


CHRONOLOGICAL   TABLE. 


A.  I). 

1711  John   Holies,    Duke  of  New- 

castle, buried,  Aug.  9. 

1712  LordGodolphin  buried,  Oct.  8. 

1713  Ladv   A.   C.   Bagnall   buried, 

March  13. 
Dean  SpiMt  buried. 
Atterbury,  Dean. 
Tompion  buried. 

1714  Burial   of  Queen  Anne,  Aug. 

24. 

Coronation  of  George  I.,  Oct. 
20. 

1715  Charles    Montague,     Earl    of 

Halifax,  buried,  May  20. 
Great  Bell  of  Westminster  pur- 
chased for  St.  Paul's. 
1710     Baker  died. 

South  buried,  July  16. 

1717  John  Twysden  died. 
Convocation  prorogued. 

1718  Sir  J.  Chardin  died. 
Nicholas  Ko\ve  buried,  Dec.  14. 
Mrs.  Steele  buried,  Dec.  30. 

1719  Joseph  Addison  buried,  June 

20". 

Duke  of  Schomberg,  Aug.  4. 
Ahneric  de  Courcy  buried. 

1720  Lady  Hardy  buried,  May  3. 
Monument  to  Monk  erected. 
William  Longueville  buried. 
James,  first  Earl  of  Stanhope, 

died. 
De  Castro  buried. 

1721  James   Craggs   buried,  March 

2. 

Sheffield,  Duke  of  Bucking- 
hamshire, buried,  March  25. 

Thomas  Sprat,  Archdeacon  of 
Rochester,  buried. 

Matthew  Prior,  Sept.  21. 

1722  First  Stone  of  New  Dormitorv 

laid. 
Duke  of  Marlborough  buried, 

Aug.  9. 
Arrest  of  Atterbury,  Aug.  22. 

1723  Monument    to     John    Holies, 

Duke  of  Newcastle. 
Lord  Cornbury  buried. 
Charles    Lennox,  son    of    the 

Duchess       of      Portsmouth, 

buried,  June  7. 


A.  D. 

1723     Exile  of  Atterbury,  June  18. 
tsumutl  Bradford,  Dean. 
Monument  to  Bishop  Nicholas 

Monk. 

Sir  Godfrey  Kneller  died. 
1725     Establishment  of  the  Order  of 
the  Bath. 

1727  Sir      Isaac     Newton     buried, 

March  28. 

Croft  buried,  Aug.  23. 
Coronation  of   George  II.  and 

Queen  Caroline,  Oct.  11. 

1728  Chamberlen  died. 
Freind  died. 
Woodward  buried,  Mav. 

1729  Congreve  buried,  Jan.  2G. 
Withers  buried. 

1730  Occupation  of  the  Dormitory. 
Anne  Oldtield  buried,  Oct.  27. 
Duke  of  Cleveland  and  South- 
ampton buried,  Nov.  3. 

1731  Disney  buried. 

Dean  Bradford  buried. 

Lady  Elizabeth  Nightingale 
buried. 

Joseph    Wilcocks,  Dean. 

Fire  in  the  Cloisters,  Docu- 
ments removed  to  Chapter 
House. 

1732  Atterbury  buried,  May  12. 
Sir     Thomas     Hardv    buried, 

Aug.  24. 
Monument  to   Samuel    Butler 

erected. 

John  Gay  buried,  Dec.  23. 
Nicolls,  Head-Master. 

1733  Henrietta,    Duchess   of    Marl- 

borough,  buried. 
Wetenall  died. 

1730  Edmund  Sheffield,  Duke  of 
Buckinghamshire,  buried, 
Jan.  31. 

1737  Conduitt  buried,  May  29. 
Monument  to  Milton  erected. 
Burial    of   Queen    Caroline   of 

Anspach,  Dec.  27. 

1738  Building       of        Westminster 

Bridge. 

1739  Western  Towers  finished. 

1740  Transference  of  the  Remains  of 

Duras,  Earl  of   Feversham, 


CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE. 


xxxix 


Arm  and    de    Bourbon,   and 
Charlotte  de  Bourbon,  to  the 
Abbey,  March  21. 
1740    Ephraim     Chambers     buried, 

May  21. 

Lord  Aubrey  Beauclerk  died. 
Monument   erected   to  Shaks- 
peare. 

1742  Boulter,    Archbishop     of    Ar- 

magh, buried. 

1743  Captain  Cornewall  died. 
Wager  died. 

Catherine,  Duchess  of  Buck- 
inghamshire, buried,  Aprils. 

John  Campbell, Duke  of  Argyll 
and  Greenwich,  Oct.  15. 

1744  Balchcn  died. 

174(3     William  llomeck  buried,  April 

•27. 

Cowper  entered  Westminster 
School. 

1747  General  Guest  buried,  Oct.  1C. 
Warren    Hastings  and    Elijah 

Impey   admitted  into  West- 
minster College. 
Saumarez  died. 

1748  Marshal  Wade  buried,  March 

21. 

Isaac  Watts  died. 
Anne  Bracegirdle  buried,  Sept. 

8. 

1750  Removal  of  the  Sanctuary. 

1751  General  llargrave  buried,  Feb. 

2. 
General  Fleming  buried, March 

30. 

Graham  buried,  Nov.  23. 
Vermin  died. 

1752  Warren  died. 

1753  The  Green  in  Dean's  Yard  laid 

out. 
Mark  ham,  Head-Master. 

1754  Monument   to   Lady    Walpole 

erected. 
175G     Vertue  buried. 

Dean  Wilcocks  buried. 
Zni-liiirii  f'furce,  Ih-iin. 

1757  Colonel  Townsend  died. 
Temple  We<t  died. 
Admiral  Watson  died. 

1758  Viscount  Howe  died. 


A.  D. 

1758  W.  Nightingale  buried. 
Monument  to  Lady  E.  Night- 
ingale erected. 

Removal  of  Old  Dormitory  and 
Brewhouse. 

1759  General  Wolfe  died. 
Handel  buried,  April  20. 

17GO  Celebration  of  the  Bicentenary 
of  Westminster  School,  June 
2. 

Burial  of  George  II.,  Nov.  11. 
17C1     Coronation  of  George  III.  and 
Queen  Charlotte,  Sept.  22. 

Hales  died. 

Holmes  died. 
17C2     Monument  erected  to  Thomson. 

1704  Pulteney,  Earl  of  Bath,  buried, 

July  17. 

1705  William    Augustus.    Duke   of 

Cumberland,    buried,    Nov. 
10. 
17G6     Susanna  Maria  Gibber  buried. 

Admiral  Tyrrell  died. 
17C7     Widow  of  "the  Duke  of  Argyll 
and  Greenwich  buried,  April 
3. 

Duke  of  York  buried,  Nov.  3. 
1708     Dean  1'earee  retires. 

Bnnnell  Thornton  buried. 
Hannah  I'richard  died. 

1770  Lord  Ligonier  buried. 

1771  George  Montague, Earl  of  Hali- 

fax, buried. 
Opening     of     the     Tomb     of 

Edward  I. 
Grav  died. 

1772  Hust  of  Booth  erected. 
Steigerr  buried,  Dec.  28. 

1774  Goldsmith  died. 

1775  General  Lawrence  died. 
1770     Courayer  buried. 

Elizabeth   Percy,   Duchess    of 

Northumberland,  Dec.  8. 
Roberts,  Secretary  to  lYlliam, 

died. 

1777  Barry  buried,  Jan.  20. 
Wraggdied. 
Gatehouse  taken  down. 
Foote  buried.  Nov.  •'!. 

1778  William  I'itt.  Earl  of  Chatham, 

buried,  June  !l. 


xl 


CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE. 


A.  D. 

1778  Restoration  of  Spenser's  Monu- 

ment. 

Erection    of     Wolfe's    Monu- 
ment. 

1779  Garrick  buried,  Feb.  1. 

1780  Restoration  of  Canulen's  Monu- 

ment. 

1781  Lady    Charlotte    Percy,     hut 

torchlight  Funeral  not  royal. 

1782  Captains  Bayn  and  Blair,  and 

Lord     R.     Manners,     died. 

(Monument.) 
William  Dairy  in  pie  died. 
Pringle  died. 
Admiral  Kempenfelt  died. 

1783  Sir  Eyre  Coote  died. 
Admiral  Storr  died. 
Lady  Dehival  buried. 

1784  Handel  Festival,  May  2G-June 

5. 
Johnson  buried,  Dee.  20. 

1785  John  Henderson  buried,  Dec. 

9. 

178G    Jonas  Ilamvay  died. 
Taylor  died. 

1789  Brougliton  buried. 
Gideon  Loten  died. 

Sir  John  Hawkins  buried,  Jan. 
28. 

1790  Monument  to  Martin   Ffolkes 

erected. 

Duke  of  Cumberland    buried, 
Sept.  28. 

1791  Oak   taken   down    in    Dean's 

Yard. 

Admiral  Harrison  buried,  Oct. 
20. 

1792  Sir    John     Burgoyne    buried, 

Aug.  13. 

1793  Lord  Mansfield  buried,  March 

28. 

Cooke  buried,  Sept.  1. 
Samuel  florsley.  Dean. 

1794  Winteringham  died. 
Captains   Harvey,    Hutt,    and 

Montagu,  died  June  1. 

1795  Alexander  Duroure  buried. 
1790     Macpherson  buried.  March  15. 

Chambers  buried,  March  18. 
1797     Mason  died. 
1799    Ladv  Kerry  buried. 


A.  D. 

1799  Captain  Cook  died. 

1800  Warren,    Bishop    of    Bangor, 

buried. 
M.    E.    Bowes,    Countess    of 

Strathmore,  buried,  Ma}-  10. 
Lady  Tyrconnell  buried. 
Totty  died. 

1801  Sir   George   Staunton   buried, 

Jan.  23. 

1802  Arnold  buried,  Oct.  29. 

William  Vinctnt,  Dean. 

See  of  Rochester  parted  from 

the  Deanery. 
1?05     Dr.  Buchan  buried. 

Banks  died. 

Christopher  Anstey  died. 
180G     William  Pitt  buried,  Feb.  22. 

Charles  Fox  buried,  Oct.  10. 

1807  Admiral  Delaval  buried,  Jan. 

27. 
Antony,  Duke  of  Montpensier, 

buried,  May  20. 
Markliam,  Archbishop,  buried, 

Mov.  11. 
Bust  ot'Paoli  erected. 

1808  Lord  Delaval  buried. 
Monument  to  Addison  erected. 

1809  A  gar,  Lord  Normanton, buried. 

1810  Louise  de  Savoie  buried,  Nov. 

20. 

1811  Louise  de  Savoie   removed  to 

Sardinia,  March  5. 
Richard   Cumberland    buried, 

May  14. 
Lady  Mary  Coke,  daughter  of 

the   Duke     of    Argyll   and 

Greenwich,  buried. 
Captain  Stewart  died. 

1812  Perceval  died. 

Last  Installation  of  Knights  of 
the  Bath  in  the  Abbey. 

1813  Granville  Sharpe  died. ' 
Wyatt  buried,  Sept.  28. 

1814  E.'ll.  Delaval  buried. 
Burney  died. 

18! r>     Dean  Vincent  buried,  Dec.  29. 
1810     Lord  Kerry  buried. 

Jo/in  Ireland,  Dean. 

Lord  Minto  buried,  Jan.  29. 

Sheridan  buried,  Julv  13. 
1817     Horner  died. 


CHRONOLOGICAL,  TABLE. 


xli 


A.   D. 
131;) 


1820 
1821 


1823 
1824 


1320 
1827 


1829 

1830 
1831 


1834 
1838 


1840 
1842 


1843 
1844 

1845 

1847 
1848 


James  Watt  died. 

Bust  of  Warren  Hastings 
erected. 

Grattan  buried,  June  16. 

Coronation  of  George  IV., 
July  19. 

Major  Andre  buried,  Nov.  28. 

Lord  Castlereagli  buried,  Aug. 
20. 

Eva  Maria  Garrick  buried, 
Oct.  25. 

John  Philip  Keinble  died. 

Bailie  died. 

Restoration  of  Altar  Screen  by 
Bernascon. 

Sir  Stamford  Raffles  died. 

Gift'ard  buried,  Jan.  8. 

George  Canning  buried,  Aug. 
10'. 

Davy  died. 

Young  died. 

Fire  in  the  Triforium. 

Tierney  died. 

Renuell  buried.  April  G. 

Coronation  of  William  IV.  and 
Queen  Adelaide,  Sept.  8. 

Mrs.  Siddons  died. 

Andrew  Bell  buried. 

Mackintosh  died. 

Sir  John  Malcolm  died. 

Wilberforce  buried,  Aug.  3. 

Telford  buried,  Sept.  10. 

Zachary  Macaulay  died. 

Coronation  of  Queen  Victoria, 
June  28. 

Lord  Holland  died. 

Dean  Ireland  buried,  Sept.  8. 

Thomas  Turton,  Dean.  Con- 
secration of  live  Colonial 
Bishops  May  24. 

Southev  died. 

Campbell  buried,  July  3. 

Henry  Cary  buried,  Aug.  21. 

Sir  Fowell  Uuxton  died. 

Siunitel  IV  ilber  force,  Dean. 

Sir  William  Follett  died. 

William  Hucldnwl,  Dean. 

Consecration  of  three  Austra- 
lian Bishops,  and  of  R.  Gray, 
Bishop  of  Cape  Town. 

Charles  Buller  died. 


A.  D. 

1849 
1850 


1852 

1856 

1858 
185J 


18GO 


1802 
1803 


1804 


18G5 


Sir  R.  Wilson  buried,  May  15. 
Consecration  of  i'ulti>rd,Bishop 

of  Montreal. 
Wordsworth  died. 
Peel  died. 
Transference  of  the  Remains 

of  Ly  ml  wood  to  the  Abbey, 

March  0. 

Convocation  revived,  Nov.  12. 
Bishop  Monk  buried,  Juije  14. 
R.  (,'.  Trench,  Dean. 
Consecration  of  G.  L.  Cotton, 

Bishop  of  Calcutta. 
Transference  of  the  Remains  of 

John  Hunter  to  the  Abbe}-, 

March  28. 
Consecration    of    Bishops    of 

Columbia,  Brisbane,  and  St. 

Helena,  and  of  the  Bishop  of 

Bangor. 

Stephenson  buried,  Oct.  21. 
Lord    Macaulay    buried,    Jan. 

9. 
Sir  Charles  Barry  buried,  May 

22. 
Lord  Dundonald  buried,  Xov. 

14. 
Celebration  of  Tercentenary  of 

Westminster    School,    Nov. 

17. 

FU/abeth  Woodfall  buried. 
Karl  Canning  buried,  June  21. 
Sir    James    Outrain     buried, 

March  25. 

Lord  Clyde  buried.  Aug.  22. 
Sir  G.  Cornewall  Lewis  died. 
Thackeray  died. 
Consecration  of  First  Mission- 
ary Bishop  to  Central  Africa, 

Orange  River  State. 
Arthur  P.  Stanley,  Demi. 
Consecration  of   the  Bishop  of 

Ely. 

Acts  of  Parliament  removed 
from  the  Parliament  Ollice 
to  the  Victoria  Tower. 

Lord  Palmerston  buried,  Oct. 
27. 

Celebration  of  800th  anniver- 
sary of  the  Foundation  of 
the  Abbey,  Dec.  28. 


xlii 


CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE. 


A.  D. 

1860 
1867 


1868 
1869 


1869 


1870 
1871 


1872 
1873 


Restoration  of  Chapter  House 

undertaken. 
Monument  to  Cobden. 
Restoration    of    Altar   Screen 

in  Marble. 
Royal  Commission  on   Ritual 

in  Jerusalem  Chamber. 
Consecration  of   the  Bishop  of 

Hereford. 

Discovery  of  Grave  of  James  I. 
Consecration  of  the  Bishops  of 

Lincoln,  Grafton  and  Armi- 

dale,    and    Mauritius,    Feb. 

24. 
Consecration  of  the  Bishops  of 

Auckland,      Bathnrst,     and 

Labuan,  June  29. 
Consecration  of  the  Bishop  of 

Montreal,  Aug.  1. 
Consecration  of  the  Bishop  of 

Salisbury,  Oct.  28. 
Funeral   of   George   Peabody, 

Nov.  12. 
Consecration  of  the  Bishop  of 

Exeter,  Dec.  21. 
Consecration  of   the  Bishop  of 

Oxford. 

Charles  Dickens  buried. 
Entertainment  of   Archbishop 

of  Syria,  Jan.  25. 
Sir  John  Herschel  buried. 
George  Grote  buried. 
Revision  of   Authorised   Ver- 
sion — 
Communion   in   Henry  VII. 's 

Chapel. 

Sir  George  Pollock  buried. 
Lord  Lytton  buried. 


A.  D. 

1873 


1874 
1875 

1876 
1877 


1878 
1879 


1881 


Funeral    Service    for   Bishop 

Macilwaine. 

Visit  of  the  Shah. 

David  Livingstone  buried. 

Visit  of  the  Emperor  of  Russia. 

Burials  of  Sir  Sterndale  Ben- 
nett, Sir  Charles  Lyell,  and 
Bishop  Thirhvall. 

Burial  of  Lady  Augusta  Stan- 
ley. 

Caxton  Celebration,  June  2. 

Consecration  of  Dr.  Thorold 
as  Bishop  of  Rochester,  July 
25. 

Consecration  of  Bishops  of 
Rangoon  and  Lahore  ;  and 
Suffragan  Bishop  of  Notting- 
ham, Dec.  21. 

Funeral  of  Sir  Gilbert  Scott, 
April  6. 

Consecration  of  Dr.  Lightfoot 
as  Bishop  iif  Durham,  by 
Archbishop  of  York,  April 
25. 

Funeral  of  Lord  Lawrence, 
July  5. 

Funeral  of  Sir  Rowland  Hill, 
Sept,  4. 

Jubilee  Service  for  King's 
College,  London,  June  21. 

Funeral  of  Lord  Hatheiiey, 
July  15. 

Death  (July  18)  and  Funeral  of 
Dean  Stanley,  July  25. 

G.  Granville  Bradley,  Denn, 
installed  Nov.  1. 

Funeral  of  G.  E.  Street,  Dec. 
29, 


GENERAL  DIMENSIONS  OF  THE  ABBEY  CHURCH. 


Interior. 

Exterior. 

Feet 

In. 

Feet 

In. 

Length  of  the  Nave    .     .     . 

100 

0 

Extreme  length  of  the  Abbey 

423 

6 

Breadth  of  ditto     .... 

38 

7 

Ditto,  including  Henry  VII.  's 

Height  of  ditto  .          ... 

101 

8 

530 

0 

Breadth  of  the  Aisles      .     . 

16 

7 

Height  of  the  western  towers 

Extreme    breadth     of    the 

to  the  top  of  the  pinnacles 

225 

4 

Nave  and  Aisles      .     .     . 

71 

9 

Height  of  Nave  and  Transept 

Length  of  the  Choir  .     .     , 

155 

!) 

roofs      

138 

3 

Extreme  breadth  of  ditto     . 

38 

4 

Height  of  lantern  .... 

151 

0 

Height  of  ditto  .... 

101 

2 

Ileiirhtof  north  front,  includ- 

Extreme  len°'th  from  north 

166 

o 

to  south  of  the  Transepts 

and  Choir  

203 

2 

Ilenry  VII.  's  Chapel  :  — 

Length  ot'eaeli  Transept 

82 

5 

Interior,  length    .     .     . 

104 

6 

Entire  breadth   of  ditto, 

84 

g 

Exterior      "         ... 
Interior   breadth      .     . 

106 
6!) 

6 

HI 

Extreme    length    from   the 

Exterior       "             .     . 

82 

0 

west  door  to  the  piers   of 

Interior,  height    .     .     . 

61 

5 

Henry  VII.  's  Chapel  .     . 

403 

0 

Exterior     '•         ... 

82 

0 

Ditto,  including  Henry 

VII.  's  Chapel      .... 

511 

6 

Dimensions  of  the  Isle  of  Thorns,  470  yards  long,  370  yards  broad. 


THE 
FOUNDATION   OF   WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 

TIIK  devout  King  destined  to  God  that  place,  both  for  that  it 
was  near  unto  the  famous  and  wealthy  city  of  London,  and  also 
had  a  pleasant  situation  amongst  fruitful  fields  lying  round  about 
it,  with  the  principal  river  running  hard  by,  bringing  in  from  all 
parts  of  the  world  great  variety  of  wares  and  merchandise  of  all 
sorts  to  the  city  adjoining  :  but  chiefly  for  the  love  of  the  Chief 
Apostle,  whom  lie  reverenced  with  a  special  and  singular  affection 
(Contemporary  Life  of  Edward  the  Confessor,  in  Harleian  J\ISS., 
pp.  980-985). 


VOL.  I.  —  1 


SPECIAL   AUTHORITIES. 

THE  special  authorities  for  the  physical  peculiarities  of   West- 
minster are :  — 

1.  Smith's  Antiquities  of  Westminster.     London.     1807. 

2.  Saunders's  Situation  and  Extent  of  Westminster,  in  ArcJxc- 

olof/ia,  vol.  xxvi.  pp.  223-241. 

3.  Dean  Buckland's  Sermon  (1847)  on  the  reopening  of  West 

minster  Abbey,  with  a  Geological  Appendix. 

4.  History  of  St.  Margaret's,    Westminster,  by  the  Rev.  Mac- 

kenzie E.  C.  Walcott. 

For  Edward  the  Confessor  :  — • 

1.  Life  by  Ailred,  Abbot  of  Rievaulx,  A.  n.  1163,  derived  chiefly 

from  an  earlier  Life  by  Osbert,  or  Osbern  of  Clare,  Prior 
of  Westminster,  A.  D.  1158. 

2.  The  Four  Lives  published  by  Mr.  Luard,  in  the  Collection 

of  the  Master  of  the  Rolls  :  — 

(a)  Cambridge  3fS.  French  poem,  dedicated  to  Eleanor, 
Queen  of  Henry  III.,  probably  about,  A.D.  1245. 

(/>)  O.rfonl  MS.  Latin  poem,  dedicated  to  Henry  VI., 
probably  between  A.  D.  1440-1450. 

(c)  Vatican  and  Cains  Coll.  J\1SS.,  probably  in  the  thir- 
teenth century.  All  these  are  founded  on  Ailred. 

(rf)  Harleian  A/.S'.,  A.r>.  1066-1074  (almost  contemporary). 

(e)  The  charters  of  the  Saxon  Kings.  (For  the  suspicions 
attaching  to  them,  see  ArchceoloyicalJournal,  No.  114, 
pp.  139-140.) 


.iVu/A  ?,'wv 


iK  v\T 


The  Abbey  from  the  Dean's  Park. 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE   FOUNDATION    OF   WESTMINSTER   ABBEY 

IT  is  said  that  the  line  in  Heber's  '  Palestine '  which 
describes  the   rise  of   Solomon's  temple  originally 
ran  — 

Like  the  green  grass,  the  noiseless  fabric  grew ; 

and  that,  at  Sir  Walter  Scott's  suggestion,  it  was  altered 
to  its  present  form  — 

Like  some  tall  palm,  the  noiseless  fabric  sprung. 

Whether  we  adopt  the  humbler  or  the  grander  image, 
the  comparison  of  the  growth  of  a  fine  building  to  that 
of  a  natural  product  is  full  of  instruction.  But  the 
growth  of  an  historical  edifice  like  Westminster  Abbey 
needs  a  more  complex  figure  to  do  justice  to  its  forma- 
tion :  a  venerable  oak,  with  gnarled  and  hollow  trunk, 
and  spreading  roots,  and  decaying  bark,  and  twisted 
branches,  and  green  shoots ;  or  a  coral  reef  extending 
itself  with  constantly  new  accretions,  creek  after  creek, 
and  islet  after  islet.  One  after  another,  a  fresh  nucleus 
of  life  is  formed,  a  new  combination  produced,  a  larger 
ramification  thrown  out,  Tn  this  respect  Westminster 
Abbey  stands  alone  amongst  the  buildings  of  the  world. 
There  are,  it  may  be,  some  which  surpass  it  in  beauty 
or  grandeur;  there  are  others,  certainly,  which  sur- 
pass it  in  depth  and  sublimity  of  association  ;  but  there 
is  none  which  has  been  entwined  by  so  many  contin- 
uous threads  with  the  history  of  a  whole  nation. 


4  FOUNDATION   OF   WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 

I.  The  first  origin  of  Westminster  is  to  be  sought  in 
Physical  the  natural  features  of  its  position,  which  in- 
London.  elude  the  origin  of  London  no  less.  Foremost 
of  these  is  what  to  Londoners  and  Englishmen  is,  in 
a  deeper  and  truer  sense  than  was  intended  by  Gray 
The  Thames,  when  he  used  the  phrase,  our  'Father  Thames : ' 
the  river  Thames,  the  largest  river  in  England,  here 
widening  to  an  almost  majestic  size,  yet  not  too  wide 
for  thoroughfare  —  the  direct  communication  between 
London  and  the  sea  on  the  one  hand,  between  London 
and  the  interior  on  the  other.  When  roads  were  bad, 
when  robbers  were  many,  when  the  forests  were  still 
thick,  then,  far  more  than  now,  the  Thames  was  the 
chief  highway  of  English  life,  the  chief  inlet  and  out- 
let of  English  commerce.  Here,  from  the  earliest 
times,  the  coracles  of  tne  British  tribes,  the  galleys 
of  the  Roman  armies,  were  moored,  and  gave  to  the 
place  the  most  probable  origin  of  its  name  —  the  '  City 
of  Ships.' 

The  Thames  is  the  parent  of  London.  The  chief 
river  of  England  has,  by  a  natural  consequence,  secured 
for  its  chief  city  that  supremacy  over  all  the  other 
towns  which  have  at  various  times  claimed  to  be  the 
seats  of  sovereignty  in  England  —  York,  Canterbury, 
and  Winchester.  The  old  historic  stream,  which  gath- 
ered on  the  banks  of  its  upper  course  Oxford,  Eton, 
Windsor,  and  Richmond,  had  already,  before  the  first 
beginning  of  those  ancient  seats  of  learning  and  of  regal 
luxury,  become,  on  these  its  lower  banks,  the  home  l  of 
England's  commerce  and  of  England's  power. 

Above  the  river  rose  a  long  range  of  hills,  covered 
with  a  vast  forest,  full  of  wild  deer,  wild  bulls,  and 

1  Londinium  .  .  copia  negotiatorum  et  commeatuum  maxima 
celebre.  (Tac.  Ann.  xiv.  33.) 


FEATURES   OF   LONDON.  5 

wild  boars,1  of  which  the  highest  points  were  Hamp- 
stead  and  Highgate/  A  desolate  moor  or  fen,  marked 
still  by  the  names  of  Finsbury,  Fenchurch,  and  Thehills 
Moorficlih,  which  in  winter  was  covered  with  and  streanis- 
water  and  often  frozen,  occupied  the  plateau  immediately 
north  of  the  city.  As  the  slope  of  the  hills  descended 
steeply  on  the  strand  of  the  river,  slight  eminences,  of 
stiff  clay,  broke  the  ground  still  more  perceptibly. 
Tower  Hill,  Corn  Hill,  and  Ludgate  Hill  remind  us 
that  the  old  London,  like  all  capitals,  took  advantage 
of  whatever  strength  was  afforded  by  natural  situation  : 
and  therefore  as  we  go  up  to  Cornhill,  the  traditional 
seat  of  British  chiefs  and  Eoman  governors,  as  we  feel 
the  ground  swelling  under  our  feet  when  we  begin  the 
ascent  from  Fleet  Street  to  St.  Paul's,  or  as  we  see 
the  eminence  on  which  stands  the  Tower  of  London, 
the  oldest  fortress  of  our  Norman  kings,  we  have 
before  us  the  reasons  which  have  fixed  what  is  prop- 
erly called  the  '  city '  of  London  on  its  present  site. 

And  yet  again,  whilst  the  first  dwellers  of  the  land 
were  thus  entrenched  on  their  heights  by  the  riverside, 
they  were  at  once  protected  and  refreshed  by  the  clear 
swift  rivulets  descending  from  the  higher  hills  through 
the  winding  valleys  that  intersected  the  earthen  bul- 
warks on  which  the  old  fastnesses  stood.  These  streams 
still  survive  in  the  depths  of  the  sewers  into  which  they 
are  absorbed,  and  in  the  streets  to  which  they  give 
their  names.  On  the  eastern2  side  the  Long  stream 
(Lanr/borne)  oi  'sweet  water'  tiowed  from  the  fens  (of 
Fenchurch),  and  then  broke  into  the  'shares  or  small 
rills'  of  S/iarebornc  and  Southbornc,  by  which  it  reached 

1  Fitzstephen.  Vita  S.  Tlionia.'.  Deseriptio  uobilissima;  civitntis 
London  ite. 

-  Arch,  xxxiii.  110. 


6  FOUNDATION   OF   WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 

the  Thames.  By  St.  Stephen's  Walbrook,  probably 
forming  the  western  boundary  of  the  Eoman  fortress 
of  London,1  there  flows  the  Brook  of  London  Wall  — 
the  Wall  Brook,  which,  when  swelled  by  winter  floods, 
rushed  with  such  violence  down  its  gully  that,  even  in 
the  time  of  Stow,  a  young  man  was  swept  away  by  it.2 
Holborn  Hill  takes  its  name  from  the  Old  Bourne?  or 
Holebourne,  which,  rising  in  High  Holborn,  ran  down 
that  steep  declivity,  and  turned  the  mills  at  Turnmill 
(or  Turnbull)  Street,  at  the  bottom  :  the  River  of  Wells, 
as  it  was  sometimes  called,  from  those  once  consecrated 
springs  which  now  lie  choked  and  buried  in  Clerken 
Well,  and  Holy  Well,  and  St.  Clement's  Well— the 
scene  in  the  Middle  Ages  of  many  a  sacred  and  festive 
pageant  which  gathered  round  their  green  margins. 
Fleet  Ditch  and  Fleet  Street  mark  the  shallow  bed  of 
the  '  Fleet ' 4  as  it  creeps  down  from  the  breezy  slopes  of 
Hampstead.  The  rivulet  of  Ulebrig  crossed  the  Strand 
under  the  '  Ivy  Bridge,'  5  on  its  way  to  the  Thames. 

Such  are  the  main  natural  features  of  London.     In 
recalling  them  from  the  graves  in  which  they  are  now 

1  Arch,  xxxiii.  104. 

2  Ibid,  xxxiii.  104.     Stow's  Surrey.     Account  of  Downe  Gate. 

3  If  '  Old  Bourne,'  as  it  appears  in  Stow  (see  also  Hay  ward's  Eil- 
irard  VI.,  pp.  96,  97),  tbe  aspirate  has  been  added  as  a  London  vul- 
garism.    If    '  Holebourne,'   as   it   appears  in  earlier  documents,  it  is 
probably  derived  from  flowing  in  a  hollow.     See  Letter  in  the  Times, 
Aug.  17,  1868. 

4  In  a  petition  to  the  Parliament  at  Carlisle,  in  35  Edward  I.  (Hot. 
Purl.    i.    p.    200,    No.    59),    the    Earl    of   Lincoln    stated    that  in    old 
times  ten  or  twelve  ships  used  often  to  come  up  to  Fleet  Bridge  with 
merchandise,  and  some  even  to  Holborn  Bridge,  to  scour  the  water- 
course.    It  has  been  suggested  to  me  that  the  word  '  Fleet,'  as  a  local 
designation,    does    not    mean    '  swift,'   but    '  shallow,'  or   '  flat.'      In 
East  Anglia  it  is  always  so  used  by  the  common  people,  as  a  '  fleet 
plate,'   and   so   of   meadows   and  fords  in  the  fen  country,  where  a 
rapid  stream  is  unknown. 

5  Arch.  xxvi.  227. 


OF  THE  Aiir.r.v  \NI>  ITS  I-UECINCTS  AHOVT  A.  D.  1535. 


THE   ISLAND   Of  THORNS.  7 

entombed,  there  is  something  affecting  in  the  thought 
that,  after  all,  we  are  not  so  far  removed  from  our 
mother  earth  as  we  might  have  supposed.  There  is  a 
quaint  humour  in  the  fact  that  the  great  arteries  of  our 
crowded  streets,  the  vast  sewers  which  cleanse  our  hab- 
itations, are  fed  by  the  lifeblood  of  those  old  and  living 
streams ;  that  underneath  our  tread  the  Tyburn,  and 
the  Holborn,  and  the  Fleet,  and  the  Wall  Brook,  are 
still  pursuing  their  ceaseless  course,  still  ministering  tc 
the  good  of  man,  though  in  a  far  different  fashion  than 
when  Druids  drank  of  their  sacred  springs,  and  Saxons 
were  baptized  in  their  rushing  waters,  ages  ago. 

Thus  much  has  been  necessary  to  state  respecting 
the  origin  of  London,  because  without  a  general  view 
of  so  near  and  great  a  neighbour  it  is  impossible  to 
understand  the  position  of  our  own  home  of  West- 
minster. 

Here  too  the  mighty  river  plays  an  important  part, 
but  with  an  auxiliary  which  was  wanting  in  the  eastern 
sweep  which  has  cradled  the  hills  of  London.  Thp  Isl.1I1(1 
Those  steep  stiff  banks  of  London  clay  forbade  of  Thol'"s- 
any  intrusion  of  the  Thames  beyond  his  natural  shores; 
but  both  above  and  below  that  point  the  level  ground 
enabled  the  river  to  divide  his  stream,  and  embrace 
within  his  course  numerous  islands  and  islets.  Below, 
we  still  find  the  Isle  of  Dogs  and  the  Isle  of  Sheep. 
Above,  in  like  manner,  the  waters  spread  irregularly 
over  a  long  low  Hat,  and  enclosed  a  mass  of  gravel  de- 
posit forming  a  small  island  or  peninsula.  The  inllux 
and  reflux  of  the  tide,  which  lower  down  was  said  even 
to  have  undermined  the  river  walls  of  the  fortress  of 
London,1  rushed,  it  was  believed,  through  what  once 

1  Fit/stephen  (as  above).  See  Arch,  xxxiii.  110.  In  the  memory 
of  man  the  vaults  of  the  Treasury  buildings  were  tluoded. 


8  FOUNDATION   OF   WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 

was  Flood  Street ;  and  some  of  our  chroniclers  fix  the 
scene  of  Canute's  rebuke  to  his  courtiers  '  on  the  banks 
of  the  Thames  as  it  ran  by  the  Palace  of  Westminster 
at  flowing  tide,  and  the  waves  cast  forth  some  part  of 
their  water  towards  him,  and  came  up  to  his  thighs.' l 
On  the  north-east  a  stream  came  up  by  the  street  thence 
called  Channel  (afterwards  corrupted  into  Canon2) 
Kow,  through  Gardiner's  Lane,  which  was  crossed  by  a 
bridge  as  late  as  the  seventeenth  century.3  On  the 
north  this  channel  spread  out  into  a  low  marshy  creek, 
now  the  lake  in  St.  James's  Park ;  and  the  steepness  of 
the  sides  of  the  islet  is  indicated  by  the  stairs  descend- 
ing into  the  Park  from  Duke  Street  Chapel.  At  the 
point  where  Great  George  Street  enters  Birdcage  Walk 
by  Storey's  Gate,  there  was  a  narrow  isthmus  which 

1  Fabian,  p.  229.     Kuyghtou,  c.  2325. 

2  From  its  being  tbe  residence   of    the   canons   of   St.  Stephen's 
Chapel. 

3  The  statement  of  Maitland  ( History  of  London,  p.  730)  and  Dart 
(ii.  28),  that  the  first  bridge  over  this  stream  was  built  by  Matilda,  the 
good  queen  of  Henry  I.,  is  probably  a  mistake  founded  on  the  statement 
of  Weever,  who  says  (p.  454)  that  Matilda  '  builded  the  bridges  over 
the  River  of  Lea  at  Stratford  Bow,  and  over  the  little  brooke  called 
Chanelsebridge.'     The  situation  of  the  second  bridge  not  being  defi- 
nitely given  in  this  passage,  Maitland   may  have   assumed,  as   Dart 
actually  does  assume,  that  it  was  identical  with  the  bridge  near  Channel 
Row,  Westminster.     On   referring  to    Stow,  however    (Annals,  A.  D. 
1118),  we  find  that  the  Queen  built  two  stone  bridges  —  one  over  the 
Lea  at  Stratford,  and  one  not  far  from  it,  over  a  little  brook  called 
'  Chanelsebridge.'     And  it  is  evident  from  other  facts  which  he  men- 
tions, that  Stow  had  seen  the  record  of  proceedings  in  the  King's  Bench 
in  G  Edward  II.,  in  which  is  recited  an  inquisition  of  32  Edward  I., 
assigning  the  foundation  of  these  two  bridges,  tbe  Stratford  bridge  and 
the  'Chanelesbrigg,'  near  it,  to  Queen  Matilda.     Stow  evidently  knew 
nothing  about  the  founder  of  the  bridge  near  Channel  Row,  Westmin- 
ster ;  for  in  his  Survey  he  merely  mentions  it  as  before  quoted.     And 
in  his  notice  of  Matilda's  place  of  sepulture  he  makes  no  allusion  to  it. 
I  owe  this  correction  to  Mr.  F.  S.  Ilaydon.     Mr.  Walcott  has  since 
discovered  that  the  bridge  over  the  Westminster  stream  was  called  the 
Abbot's  Bridge  at  Tothill. 


THE   ISLAND   OF   THORNS.  9 

connected  the  island  with  a  similar  bed  of  gravel,  reach- 
ing under  Buckingham  Palace  to  Hyde  Park.1  Then 
through  Prince's  Street  (formerly,  from  this  stream, 
called  Long  Ditch),2  another  channel  began,  and  con- 
tinued through  Dean  Street  and  College  Street,  till  it 
fell  again  into  the  Thames  by  Millbank  Street,  where, 
in  later  days,  the  Abbot's  Mill  stood  on  the  banks  of 
the  stream.  The  watery  waste,  which  on  the  south 
spread  over  Lambeth  and  Southwark,  on  the  north  was 
fed  by  one  of  those  streams  which  have  been  already 
noticed.  There  descended  from  Hampstead  in  a  torrent, 
which  has  scattered  its  name  right  and  left  along  its 
course,  the  brook  of  the  Aye  or  Eye,3  so  called  probably 
from  the  Eye  (or  Island)  of  which  it  formed  the  eastern 
boundary,  and  afterwards  familiarly  corrupted  into  the 
A  ye  Bourn,  T'Ayc  Bourn,  Tybourn*  It  is  recognized 
first  by  the  Chapel  of  St.  Mary  on  its  banks,  Jl/ary-le- 
lournt1  (now  corrupted  into  Marylebone)  - — then  by 
'  Brook  '  Street.  Next,  winding  under  the  curve  of  'Aye 
Hill,'5  it  ran  out  through  the  Green  Park;  and  whilst 
a  thin  stream  found  its  way  through  what  is  now  called 
the  King's  Scholars'  Pond  Sewer  into  the  Thames,  its 
waters  also  spread  through  the  morass  (which  was 

1  See   Appendix    to    Dean    Buekland's   Sermon   on    Westminster 
Abbey. 

2  The  word  '  diteli '  is  used   for  a  brook,  as  in  Kenditcli,  near  Hainp- 
stead.     The  ditch  was  remembered  in  17'J'J.     ((j'ent.  Mittj.  Ixix.  part  ii. 
p.  577.) 

3  For  the  whole  plan  of  the  manor  or  plain  of  A'yc  or  Kin,  contain- 
ing; the  course  of  the  brook,  see  Arch.  xxvi.  224,  22f>,  2.'54. 

4  Stratford   Place  marks  the  site  of  the  banqueting  house  attached 
to  the  conduits  of  Tybonrne.      (Ari-h.  xxvi.  22(1.)      The  T'ave  is  proba- 
bly from  the  Saxon  '  let,'  'at'  (as  in  Attwater,  Attwood,  Athouriic), 
meaning  'the  road  near  the  bourne  from  the  island.' 

5  In  the  case  of  //ay  Hill,  the   London  vulgarism   has  permanently 
prefixed  the  aspirate.     The  original  'Aye   Hill'  appears  in  a  charter 
of  Henry  VI.,  in  the  archives  of  Katon  College 


10          FOUNDATION  OF   WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 

afterwards  called  from  it  the  manor  of  Eycbury,  or 
Ebury)  into  the  vast  Bulinga  Fen.1 

The  island  (or  peninsula)  thus  enclosed,  in  common 
with  more  than  one  similar  spot,  derived  its  name  from 
its  thickets  of  thorn  —  Thorn  Ey,2  the  Isle  of  Thorns  — 
which  formed  in  their  jungle  a  refuge  for  the  wild  ox  3 
or  huge  red  deer  with  towering  antlers,  that  strayed 
into  it  from  the  neighbouring  hills.  This  spot,  thus 
entrenched,  marsh  within  marsh,  and  forest  within  for- 
est, was  indeed  locus  terribilis*  '  the  terrible  place.'  as  it 
was  called  in  the  first  notices  of  its  existence ;  yet  even 
thus  early  it  presented  several  points  of  attraction  to 
the  founder  of  whatever  was  the  original  building  which 
was  to  redeem  it  from  the  wilderness.  It  had  the 
advantages  of  a  Thebaid,  as  contrasted  with  the  stir  and 
tumult  of  the  neighbouring  fortress  of  London.  And, 

o  o 

on  the  other  hand,  the  river,  then  swarming  with  fish,5 
was  close  by  to  feed  the  colony ;  the  gravel  soil  and  the 
close  fine  sand,  still  dug  up  under  the  floor  of  the 
Abbey  and  in  St.  Margaret's  Churchyard,  was  neces- 


1  Tothill  Fields  (Vincent  Square).     (Arch.  xxvi.  224.) 

2  Or  Dorney.     (Burton's  London  and    Westminster,  p.  285.)     There 
was  a  Thorney  Abbey  in  Cambridgeshire  and  in  Somersetshire.     The 
description  of  one  of  these  in  Ordericus  Vitalis  (book  xi.)  exactly  de- 
scribes what  Westminster  Abbey  must  have  been.     '  It  is  called  in 
English  the  Isle  of  Thorns,  because  its  woods,  thick  with  all  manner 
of  trees,  are  surrounded  by  vast  pools  of  water.' 

3  The  bones  of  such  an  ox  (Bos  primicerius)  were  discovered  under 
the  foundations  of  the  Victoria  Tower,  and  red  deer,  with  very  fine 
antlers,  below  the  River  Terrace.     I  derive  this  from  Professor  Owen. 
Bones  and  antlers  of  the  elk  and  red  deer  were  also  found  in  1868  in 
Broad  Sanctuary  in  making  the  Metropolitan  Railway. 

4  '  In  loco  terribili '  is  the  phrase  used  by  Offa  in  the  first  authentic 
charter,  and  repeated  in  Edgar's  (Widmore's  Inquiry,  pp.  14,  15;  Kem- 
ble,  Codex  Anr//o-Saxonirus,  §  149). 

5  Fluvius  maximus,  piscosus.     (Fitzstephen.     Vita  Sancti  Thomae. 
Desc.  civ.  Loud.) 


THE   ISLAND   OF   THORXS.  11 

sarily  healthy  ;  and  in  the  centre  of  the  thickets  there 
bubbled  up  at  least  one  spring,  perhaps  two,  which 
gave  them  water  clear  and  pure,  supplied 

Thj  spring. 

by  the  percolation  of  the  rain-water  from  the 
gravel  beds  of  Hyde  Park  and  the  Palace  Gardens 
through  the  isthmus,  when  the  river  was  too  turbid  to 
drink.1  It  has  been  said,  with  a  happy  paradox,  that 
no  local  traditions  are  so  durable  as  those  which  are 
'  writ  in  water.'  2  So  it  is  here.  In  the  green  of  Dean's 
Yard  there  stands  a  well-worn  pump.  The  spring,3 
which,  till  quite  recently,  supplied  it,  was  the  vivifying 
centre  of  all  that  has  grown  up  around. 

II.    These  were  the  original  elements  of  the  greatness 
of  Westminster,  and  such  was  the  Isle  of  Thorns.     On 
like  islands  arose  the  cathedral  and  town  of  Le,,endar. 
Ely,  the  Abbey  of  Ooyland,  the  Abbey  of  ori«lu- 
Glastonbury,   and   the   Castle-Cathedral  of    Limerick. 
On  such  another  grew  up  a  still  more  exact  parallel  — 
Notre  Dame  at  Paris,  with  the  palace  of  the  kings  close 
by.     What  was  the   first  settlement   in  those  thorny 
shades,  amidst  those  watery  wastes,  beside  that  bub- 
bling spring,  it  is  impossible  to  decipher.    The  monastic 
traditions    maintained    that    the   earliest  building  had 
been  a  Temple   of   Apollo,  shaken   clown  by  Te]i|  ile  of 
an  earthquake  in  the  year  A.  D.  154,  not,  how-  Aimll°- 
ever,  before  it  had  received  the  remains  of  Bladud  the 
magician,   who  lighted  here  in  his  preternatural  flight 
from   Bath,  and   was   thus   the   first  interment  in  the 
venerable    soil.     But    this    is    probably   no  more  than 
the    attempt    to    outshine    the    rival    cathedral    of    St. 
Paul's,  by  endeavouring  to  counterbalance  the  dubious 

1  SOP  Appendix  to  Dean  Buckland's  Sermon. 

-  Clark's  Pdupontifsus,  p.  28(5. 

3  There  is  also  another  iii  St.  Margaret's  Climvhvard. 


12  FOUNDATION   OF    WESTMINSTER   ABBEY. 

claims  of  the  Temple  of  Diana  1  by  a  still  more  dubious 
assertion  of  the  claims  of  the  temple  of  her  brother 
the  Sun  God.2  Next  comes  King  Lucius,  the  legend- 
churchof  ary  founder  of  the  originals  of  St.  Peter's, 
Lucius.  Cornhill,  Gloucester,  Canterbury,  Dover,  Ban- 
gor,  Glastonbury,  Cambridge,  Winchester.  He  it  was 
who  was  said  to  have  converted  the  two  London  tem- 
ples into  churches ; 3  or,  according  to  one  version,  to 
have  restored  two  yet  more  ancient  churches  which  the 
temples  had  superseded.4  He  it  was  who,  in  the  Swiss 
legends,  deserted  his  British  throne  to  become  the 
bishop  of  Coire  in  the  Grisons,  where  in  the  cathedral 
are  shown  his  relics,  with  those  of  his  sister  Emerita ; 
and  high  in  the  woods  above  the  town  emerges  a  rocky 
pulpit,  still  bearing  the  marks  of  his  fingers,  from  which 
he  preached  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  valleys,  in  a  voice 
so  clear  and  loud,  that  it  could  be  heard  on  the  Lucien- 
steig  (the  Pass  of  Lucius),  twelve  miles  off.  The  only 
authentic  record  of  the  Roman  period  is  the  sarcopha- 
gus of  Valerius  Amandinus,  discovered  in  the  north 
green  of  the  Abbey5  in  1869. 

1  For  the  story  of  the  Temple  of  Diana,  as  well  as  for  all  other 
illustrations  rendered  to  the  Abbey,  partly  by  parallel,  partly  by  con- 
trast, from  its  great  rival,  the  Cathedral  of  London,  I  have  a  melancholy 
pleasure  in  referring  to  the  '  Ann;ils  of  St.  Paul's,'  the  last  work  of  its 
illustrious  and  venerable  chief,  Dean  Milman. 

'*  Letter  of  Sir  Christopher  Wren  (f-ifc,  A  pp.  xxix.  p.  105).  The 
two  main  British  divinities  were  so  called  by  the  Romans,  and  Apollo 
is  said  to  have  been  Relln,  —  according  to  one  version  the  origin  of 
Billhiqsijate.  (See  Fuller's  Church  Hist.  i.  §  2.) 

3  Westminster  alone  is  ascribed  to  him  in  Brompton.     (Twysden, 
c.  724.)     For  his  supposed  establishment  of  the  Sanctuary,  see  Abbot 
Feckenham's  speech,  A.  D.  1555,  quoted  in  Chap.  V. 

4  Ellis's  Dut/dale,  p.  3 ;  Milman 's  Church  of  S.  Paul's,  p.  3. 

5  For  a  complete  account  of  it,  see  the  dissertations  on  it  collected 
by  Mr.  Albert  Way,  and  reprinted  from  the  Archaeological  Journal. 
It  is  now  in  the  entrance  to  the  Chapter-house. 


THE   LEGENDARY  ORIGIN.  13 

The  clouds  which  hang  so  thick  over  the  Temple  of 
Apollo  and  the  Church  of  Lucius  are  only  so  far  removed 
when  we  reach  the  time  of  Sebert,1  as  that  in 
him  we  arrive  at  an  unquestionably  historical  cimn-h  Of 
personage,  if  indeed  the  Sebert  to  whom  the 
foundation  of  the  Abbey  is  ascribed  be  the  king  of  that 
name  in  Essex,  and  not,  as  another  writer  represents,  a 
private  citizen  of  London.2     But  Bede's  entire  omission 
of  Westminster  in  his  account  3  of  Sebert's  connection 
with  St.  Paul's  throws  a  doubt  over  the  whole  story,  and 
the  introduction  of  the  name  in  relation  to  Westminster 
may  be  only  another  attempt  of  the  Westminster  monks 
to  redress  their  balance  against  St.  Paul's. 

Still  the  tradition  afterwards  appeared  in  so  substan- 
tial a  form,  that  Sebert's  grave  has  never  ceased  to  be 
shown  in  the  Abbey  from  the  time  of  the  erec-  Grave  of 
tion  of  the  present  building.  Originally  it  Seburt 
would  seem  to  have  been  inside  the  church.  Then, 
during  the  repairs  of  Henry  III.,  the  remains  were  de- 
posited on  the  south  side  of  the  entrance  to  the  Chapter- 
house,4 and  subsequently,  in  the  reign  of  Edward  II., 
removed  to  the  Choir,5  where  they  occupy  a  position  on 
the  south  of  the  altar  analogous  to  that  of  Dagobert 
the  founder  of  St.  Denys.  A  figure,  supposed  to  be 

1  '  Our  father  Saba,' as  his  wild  sons  used  to  call  him,  when  thcv 
envied  the  fragments  of  'white  bread  '  which  they  saw  the  bishop  give 
him  in  the  Eucharist.     (Bede,  ii.  5.)     The  fine  description  of  the  Abbey 
by  Montaleinbert  (Moines  <lc  I' Occident,  iv.  4.32)  is  in  connection  witli 
Sebert. 

2  Sulcard,  in  Cotton  MSS.     Faustina,  1>.  iii.,  f.  \'2,  in  marg. ;   Ilig- 
den,  p.  228;  Thorn.  Twysden,  c.  1768. 

a   Bede,  ii.  3.  4  Flete  MS. 

5  Weever's  Funend  Monuments,  p.  456.  See  the  Epitaph  in  Acker- 
niann,  i.  83.  The  right  arm  was  supposed  to  he  still  undccayed,  with 
the  skin  clinging  to  the  hone,  A.  D.  l.'JOT.  (Walsingham,  i.  114;  Hisli- 
anger,  p.  425.) 


14  FOUNDATION   OF    WESTMINSTER   ABBEY. 

that  of  Sebert,  is  painted  over  it.1  The  same  tradition 
that  records  his  burial  in  the  Chapter-house  adds  to 
his  remains  those  of  his  wife  Ethelgoda  and  his  sister 
Eicula.2 

The  gradual  formation  of  a  monastic  body,  indicated 
in  the  charters  of  Offa  and  Edgar,  marks  the  spread  of 
the  Benedictine  Order  throughout  England,  under  the 
influence  of  Dunstan.3  The  '  terror '  of  the  spot,  which 
had  still  been  its  chief  characteristic  in  the  charter  of 
the  wild  Offa,  had  in  the  days  of  the  more  peaceful  Edgar 
Foundation  giyen  way  to  a  dubious  '  renown.'  Twelve 

•'tear.  monks  is  the  number  traditionally  said  to  have 
been  established  by  Dunstan.4  A  few  acres  near  Staines 
formed  their  chief  property,  and  their  monastic  charac- 
ter was  sufficiently  recognised  to  have  given  to  the  old 
locality  of  the  '  terrible  place  '  the  name  of  the  '  Western 
Monastery,'  or  '  Minster  of  the  West.'  5  But  this  seems 
to  have  been  overrun  by  the  Danes,  and  it  would  have 
had  no  further  history  but  for  the  combination  of  cir- 
cumstances which  directed  hither  the  notice  of  Edward 
the  Confessor. 

III.  It  has  been  truly  remarked  that  there  is  a  strik- 
ing difference  between  the  origin  of  Pagan  temples  and  of 

1  A  sarcophagus  of  Purbeck  marble  was  found  under  the  canopy, 
in  18GG,  when  the  modern  structure  of  brickwork  was  removed,  which 
had  been  erected  by  Dean  Ireland,  and  which  is  elaborately  described 
in  (tent.  Mar/,  xcv.  p.  306. 

2  His  mother,  according  to  Bede  (ii.  3),  sister  to  Ethelbert.     See 
Chapters  III.  and  V. 

3  William  of  Malmesbury.     De  Gest.  Reg.  Angl.  (Hardy),  i.  237, 
240,  247;  and  De  Gest.  Pout.  Angl.     (Savile,  Scriptores  post  Bedam, 
p.  202.)  *  Diceto.     Twysden,  c.  456. 

5  Charter  of  Offa  (Abbey  Archives,  Charters,  No.  3),  'loco  terribili 
quod  dicitur  set  Westminister.'  Charter  of  Edgar  (ibid.,  Charters, 
No.  5),  '  nominatissimo  loco  qui  dicitur  Westmynster.'  The  name 
must  have  been  given  jn  coutradistiuctioji  to  St,  Paul's  in  the  East, 


EDWARD  THE   CONFESSOR.  15 

Christian  churches.  '  The  Pagan  temples  were  always 
the  public  works  of  nations  and  of  communities. 
They  were  national  buildings,  dedicated  to  Historicai 
national  purposes.  The  mediaeval  churches,  ° 
on  the  other  hand,  were  the  erections  of  individuals, 
monuments  of  personal  piety,  tokens  of  the  hope  of  a 
personal  reward.'  l  This  cannot  be  said,  without  re- 
serve, of  Southern  Europe,  where,  as  at  Venice  and 
Florence,  the  chief  churches  were  due  to  the  munifi- 
cence of  the  State.  But  in  England  it  is  true  even  of 
the  one  ecclesiastical  building  which  is  most  especially 
national  —  the  gift  not  of  private  individuals,  but  of 
kings.  "Westminster  Abbey  is,  in  its  origin,  the  monu- 
ment not  merely  of  the  personal  piety,  but  of  the  per- 
sonal character  and  circumstances  of  its  Founder. 

We  know  the  Confessor  well  from  the  descriptions 
preserved  by  his  contemporaries.  His  appearance  was 
such  as  no  one  could  forget.  It  was  almost  E,,wanlthe 
that  of  an  Albino.  His  full-flushed  rose-red  Hfawntwani 
cheeks  strangely  contrasted  with  the  milky  ai'1>l':" 
whiteness  of  his  waving  hair  and  beard.  His  eyes  were 
always  fixed  on  the  ground.  There  was  a  kind  of  magical 
charm  in  his  thin  white  hands  and  his  long  transparent 
fingers,2  which  not  unnaturally  led  to  the  belief  that 
there  resided  in  them  a  healing  power  of  stroking  away 
the  diseases  of  his  subjects.  His  manners  presented  a 
singular  mixture  of  gravity  and  levity.  Usually  affable 
and  gentle,  so  as  to  make  even  a  refusal  look  like  an  ac- 
ceptance, he  burst  forth  at  times  into  a  fury  which 

1  Merivale's  Boyle   Lectures,   Conversion  of  the    Northern    Xtitimis, 
p.    \-2-2. 

2  Longis    interlucentibus   digit!.*.     (Ilarlcian    Life,  p.   240.)     The 
presence  of  'the.  pious  kin^'  is  intimated  in  Sliakspeare  (Mm-liei/i,  act 
iv.  scene  3)  only  l>y  the  crowd  waiting  to  lie  touched  for  the  Evil. 


16  FOUNDATION   OF   WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 

showed  that  the  old  Berserkir  rage  was  not  dead  within 
him.1  '  By  God  and  His  mother,  I  will  give  you  just 
such  another  turn  if  ever  it  come  in  my  way ! '  was 
the  utterance  of  what  was  thought  by  his  biographers  a 
mild  expression  of  his  noble  indignation  against  a  peas- 
ant who  interfered  with  the  pleasure  of  his  chase.2 
Austere  as  were  his  habits  —  old  even  as  a  child  3  —  he 
startled  his  courtiers  sometimes  by  a  sudden  smile  or  a 
peal  of  laughter,  for  which  they  or  he  could  only  ac- 
count by  some  mysterious  vision.4  He  cared  for  little 
but  his  devotional  exercises  and  hunting.  He  would 
spend  hours  in  church,  and  then,  as  soon  as  he  was 
set  free,  would  be  off  to  the  woods  for  days  together, 
Hying  his  hawks  and  cheering  on  his  hounds. 

With  his  gentle  piety  was  blended  a  strange  hardness 
towards  those  to  whom  he  was  most  bound.  He  was 
His  char-  harsh  to  his  mother.  His  alienation  from  his 
wife,  even  in  that  fantastic  age,  was  thought 
extremely  questionable.5  His  good  faith  was  not  un- 
impeachable. '  There  was  nothing,'  it  was  said,  '  that 
he  would  not  promise  from  the  exigency  of  the  time. 
He  pledged  his  faith  on  both  sides,  and  confirmed  by 
oath  anything  that  was  demanded  of  him.'6  On  the 
other  hand  a  childish  kindliness  towards  the  poor  and 
suffering  made  them  look  upon  him  as  their  natural 
protector.  TJie  unreasoning  benevolence  which,  in  a 

1  Harleian  Life,  225.     See  this  well  drawn  out  in  the  North  British 
Review,  xlii.  361. 

2  William  of    Malmesbury,  ii.   13.     (See  Freeman's  Norman  Con- 
quest, ii.  27.) 

3  Ailretl  of  Rievaulx,  c.  373. 

4  As  when  he  saw  in  a  trance  the  shipwreck  of  the  King  of  Den- 
mark (Oxford  Life,  244;  Cambridge  Life,  1342),  or  the  movements 
of  the  Seven  Sleepers.     See  p.  35. 

8  Ilarleian  Life,  480-495. 

6  William  of  Malmesbury,  ii.  13.     Ilarleian  Life,  875-890- 


EDWARD   THE   CONFESSOR.  17 

modern  French  romance,  appears  as  an  extravagance 
of  an  unworldly  bishop,  was  literally  ascribed  to  the 
Confessor  in  a  popular  legend,  of  which  the  represen- 
tation was  depicted  on  the  tapestries  that  once  hung 
round  the  Choir,  and  may  still  be  seen  in  one  of  the 
compartments  of  the  screen  of  his  shrine.1  The  king 
was  reposing  after  the  labours  of  the  day.  His  cham- 
berlain, Hugolin,  had  opened  the  chest  of  the  royal 
monies  to  pay  the  servants  of  the  palace.  The  scullion 
crept  in  to  avail  himself,  as  lie  supposed,  of  the  King's 
sleep,  and  carried  off  the  remains  of  the  treasure.  At 
his  third  entrance  Edward  started  up,  and  warned  him 
to  fly  before  the  return  of  Hugolin  ('  He  will  not  leave 
you  even  a  halfpenny')  ;  and  to  the  remonstrances  of 
Hugolin  answered,  'The  thief  hath  more  need  of  it  than 
we  —  enough  treasure  hath  King  Edward!'2 

Another  peculiar  combination  marks  his  place  equally 
in  the  history  of  England  and  in  the  foundation  of  the 
Abbey.     He  was  the  last  of  the  Saxons — that  -riipiast  <>r 
is,  the  last  of  those  concerned  in  the  long  strug- 
gle against  the  Danes.     As  time  went  on,  the  national 
feeling  transfigured  him  almost  into  a  Saxon  Arthur.3 
In  him  was  personified  all  the  hatred  with  which  the 
Anglo-Saxon  Christians  regarded  the  Pagan  Norsemen. 
His  exile  to  escape  from  their  tyranny  raised  him  at 
once  to  the  rank  of  '  Confessor,'  as  Edmund  the  East 

1  The  legends  which  are  here  cited  are  not  found  in  the  contempo- 
rary life  of  the  Confessor  in  the  eleventh  century,  and  therefore  cannot 
be  trusted  for  the  accuracy  of  their  facts  or  their  language,  hut  only 
as  representing  the  feeling  of  the  next  generation.     The  screen   is  of 
the  fifteenth  century,  hut  it  faithfully  preserves  these  records  of  the 
twelfth.     Nothing  shows  the  rapidity  of  the  growth  of  these  legends 
more  than  the  fact  that  out  of  the  fourteen  suhjects  thus  represented, 
so  few  are  actually  historical. 

2  Camhridge  Life,  1000-1040. 

8  See  the  comparison  in  the  Camhridge  Life,  900-910. 
VOL.  i.  —  2 


18  FOUNDATION   OF    WESTMINSTER   ABBEY. 

Angle,  by  his  death  in  battle  with  them,  had  been  in 
like  manner  raised  to  the  rank  of  '  Martyr.'  A  curious 
legend  represents  that,  on  entering  his  treasury,  he  saw 
a  black  demon  dancing  on  the  casks  !  which  contained 
the  gold  extracted  from  his  subjects  to  pay  the  obnox- 
ious tax  to  the  Danes,  and  how  in  consequence  the 
Danegelt  was  for  ever  abolished. 

He  was  also  the  first  of  the  Normans.  His  reign  is 
the  earliest  link  which  reunites  England  to  the  Conti- 
The  «rst  neiit  of  Europe.  Hardly  since  the  invasion  of 
Normans.  Cttsar  • —  certainly  not  since  the  arrival  of  Au- 
gustine—  had  such  an  influx  of  new  ideas  poured  into 
our  insular  commonwealth  as  came  with  Edward  from 
his  Norman  exile.  His  mother  Emma  and  his  mater- 
nal grandfather  Richard  were  more  to  him  than  his 
father  Elthelred ;  the  Norman  clergy  and  monks  than 
his  own  rude  Anglo-Saxon  hierarchy.  His  long  hair 
and  beard,  distinguishing  his  appearance  from  that  of 
the  shorn  and  shaven  heads  of  his  Norman  kinsmen, 
were  almost  the  only  outward  marks  of  his  Saxon 
origin.  The  French  handwriting  superseded  in  his 
court  the  old  Anglo-Saxon  characters ; 2  the  French 
seals,  under  his  auspices,  became  the  type  of  the  sign- 
manual  of  England  for  centuries.3  From  him  the  Nor- 
man civilisation  spread  not  only  into  P^ngland,  but  into 
Scotland.  His  grandnephew  Edgar  Atheling,  as  the 
head  of  the  Anglo-Norman  migration  into  the  north, 
was  the  father  of  the  Scottish  Lowlands. 

1  Cambridge  Life,   940-961.      The  casks   are   represented    in  the 
frieze  of  the  screen.     This  long  continued  to  be  the  mode  of  keeping 
money,  as  appears  from  the  story  of   Wolsey  and  the  Jester.     For 
the  abolition  of  the  Danegelt  see  Cambridge  Life,  922,  1884;  Oxford 
Life,  302. 

2  Lappenberg  (Thorpe),  ii.  246. 

3  Palgrave's  History  of  England,  p.  328. 


EDWARD  THE  CONFESSOR.  19 

These  were  the  qualities  and  circumstances  which 
went  to  make  up  the  Founder  of  Westminster  Abbey. 
We  have  now  to  ask,  What  special  motive  in-  F,mil,i;ltion 
duced  the  selection  of  this  particular  site  and  AbillTy. 
object  for  his  devotion  ? 

The  idea  of  a  regal  Abbey  on  a  hitherto  unexampled 
scale  may  have  been  suggested  or  strengthened  by  the 
accounts  brought  back  to  him  of  Reims,  where  Conse,.rati,m 
his  envoys  had  been  present  at  the  consecration  at  UL""S- 
of  the  Abbey  of  St.  Remy,  hard  by  the  cathedral  in 
which  the  French  kings  were  crowned.1  By  this  time 
also  the  wilderness  of  Thorney  was  cleared  ;  and  the 
crowded  river,  with  its  green  meadows,  and  Mea(1,)WS  ot- 
the  sunny  aspect  of  the  island,2  may  have  had  'J1""'"e-v- 
a  charm  for  the  King,  whose  choice  had  hitherto  lain 
in  the  rustic  fields  of  Islip  and  Windsor. 

But  the  prevailing  motive  was  of  a  more  peculiar 
kind,  belonging  to  times  long  since  passed  away.  In 
that  age,  as  still  amongst  some  classes  in  Ro-  Tll(,  Cnil)Vs._ 
man  Catholic  countries,  religious  sentiment  8orsdevo" 


tion  to  St. 
Peter. 


took  the  form   of  special  devotion  to  this  or 
that  particular  saint.     Amongst  Edward's  favourites  St. 
Peter  was  chief.3     On   his   protection,  whilst  in  Nor- 
mandy, when  casting  about  for  help,  the  exiled  Prince 
had  thrown  himself,  and  vowed  that,  if  he  re- 
turned in  safety,  he  would  make  a  pilgrimage 
to  the  Apostle's  grave  at  Rome.     This  vow  was,  it  is 
said,  further  impressed  on  his  mind  by  the  arrival  of  a 
messenger    from    England,    almost    immediately    after- 

1  Sa.ron  Chronicle,  1049. 

2  The  combination  of  motives  is  well  jjiven  in  the  contemporary 
Life.     (Ilarleian  MS.  980-985.)     Quoted  as  the  motto  to  this  chapter. 

3  The  church  of  the  Confessor's  residence  at  Old  Windsor  is  dedi- 
cated to  St.  Peter,  and  the  site  of  his  palace  is  thence  called  Peter's 
Hill. 


20  FOUNDATION   OF   WESTMINSTER   ABBEY. 

wards,  with  the  announcement  of  the  departure  of  the 
Danes,  and  of  his  own  election  as  King.1  It  was  yet 
further  confirmed  by  a  vision,  real  or  feigned,  of  Brith- 
wold,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  at  Glastonbury,2  in  which 
St.  Peter,  the  patron  saint  of  Winchester  Cathedral,  ap- 
peared to  him,  and  announced  that  the  Bishop  himself 
should  crown  a  youth,  whom  the  saint  dearly  loved,  to 
he  King  of  England.3 

Accordingly,  when  Edward  came  to  the  throne,  he 
announced  to  his  Great  Council  his  intention  of  fulfill- 
ing his  vow.  The  proposal  was  received  with  horror  by 
nobles  and  people.  It  was  met  both  by  constitutional 
objections,  and  on  the  ground  of  the  dangers  of  the 
expedition.  The  King  could  not  leave  the  kingdom 
without  the  consent  of  the  Commons ;  he  could  not 
undertake  such  a  journey  without  encountering  the 
most  formidable  perils  — '  the  roads,  the  sea,  the  moun- 
tains, the  valleys,  ambuscades  at  the  bridges  and  the 
fords,'  and  most  of  all  '  the  felon  Romans,  who  seek 
nothing  but  gain  and  gifts.'  '  The  red  gold  and  the 
white  silver  they  covet  as  a  leech  covets  blood.' 4  The 
King  at  last  gave  way,  on  the  suggestion  that  a  deputa- 
tion might  be  sent  to  the  Pope  who  might  release  him 
from  his  vow.  The  deputation  went.  The  release 
came,  on  the  condition  that  he  should  found  or  restore 
a  monastery  of  St.  Peter,  of  which  the  King  should  be 
the  especial  patron.  It  was,  in  fact,  to  be  a  pilgrimage 

1  Cambridge  Life,  780-825. 

2  Ailred,  373.     There    is  a  difficulty  in  distinguishing  Brithwold, 
Bishop  of  Winchester,  and  Brithwold,  Bishop  of  Wilton.     The  chroni- 
cles in  general  are  in  favour  of  Winchester.     One  of  the  Lives  of  the 
Confessor  is  in  favour  of  Wilton. 

3  Cambridge  Life,  640-700. 

4  Ibid.  p.  222.     The  various  dangers  of  the  journey  to  Rome  are 
well  given  in  William  of  Malmesbury  (ii.  13). 


EDWARD   THE   CONFESSOR.  21 

by  proxy,  such  as  has  sometimes  been  performed  by 
traversing  at  home  the  same  number  of  miles  that 
would  be  travelled  on  the  way  to  Palestine ;  l  some- 
times by  sending  the  heart  after  death,2  to  perform 
what  the  living  had  been  unable  to  accomplish  in 
person. 

Where,  then,  was  a  monastery  of  St.  Peter  to  be 
found  which  could  meet  this  requirement?  It  might 
possibly  have  been  that  at  Winchester.  Perhaps  in 
this  hope  the  story  of  Bishop  Brithwold's  vision  was 
revived.  But  there  was  also  the  little  '  minster,'  west  of 
London,  near  which  the  King  from  time  to  time  resided, 
and  of  which  his  friend  Edwin,3  the  courtier  abbot, 
was  head.  It  had,  as  far  back  as  memory  extended, 
been  dedicated  to  St.  Peter.  A  Welsh  legend  conne^- 

tion  ofthe 

of  later  times  maintained  tbat  it  was  at '  Lam-  Ai>u<y  \\-iih 

tlie  nnnie  of 

peter,' '  the  Church  of  Peter,'  that  the  Apostle  »t  p<^r. 
saw  the  vision  in  which  he  was  warned  that  he  must 
shortly  '  put  off  his  earthly  tabernacle.' 4  If  the  original 
foundation  of  the  Abbey  can  be  traced  back  to  Sebert, 
the  name,  probably,  must  have  been  given  in  recollec- 
tion of  the  great  lloman  Sanctuary,  whence  Augustine, 
the  first  missionary,  had  come.5  And  Sebert  was 
believed  to  have  dedicated  his  church  to  St.  Peter  in 
the  Isle  of  Thorns,  in  order  to  balance  the  compliment 
he  had  paid  to  St.  Paul  on  Ludgate  Hill:6  a  reap- 
pearance, in  another  form,  of  the  counterbalancing 
claims  of  the  rights  of  Diana  and  Apollo  —  the  earliest 

1  As  iii  tlio  case  of  the  late  King  of  Saxony. 

2  As  in  the  case  of  Edward  I.  of  England,  and  Robert  the   Bruce 
and  James  I    of  Scotland. 

3  See  Chapter  V. 

4  ~2  1'et.  i.  14.     (I  cannot  recover  the  reference  to  this  legend.) 
&   See  Mt'iiiorinlit  (//'  ('antfihurji,  p.   11. 

6  Ailred,  e.  384. 


22          FOUNDATION  OF   WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 

stage  of  that  rivalry  which  afterwards  expressed  itself 
in  the  proverb  of  '  robbing  Peter  to  pay  Paul.' l 

This  thin  thread  of  tradition,  which  connected  the 
ruinous  pile  in  the  river-island  with  the  Roman  remin- 
iscences of  Augustine,  was  twisted  firm  and  fast  round 
the  resolve  of  Edward ;  and  by  the  concentration  of  his 
mind  2  on  this  one  object  was  raised  the  first  distinct 
idea  of  an  Abbey,  which  the  Kings  of  England  should 
regard  as  their  peculiar  treasure. 

There  are,  probably,  but  few  Englishmen  now  who 
care  to  know  that  the  full  title  of  Westminster  Abbey 
is  the  '  Collegiate  Church  or  Abbey  of  St.  Peter.'  But 
at  the  time  of  its  first  foundation,  and  long  afterwards, 
the  whole  neighbourhood  and  the  whole  story  of  the 
foundation  breathed  of  nothing  else  but  the  name, 
which  was  itself  a  reality.  '  The  soil  of  St.  Peter  '  was 
a  recognised  legal  phrase.  The  name  of  Peter's  '  Eye,' 
or  '  Island,' 3  which  still  lingers  in  the  low  land  of 
Battersea,  came  by  virtue  of  its  connection  with  the 
Chapter  of  Westminster.4  Anyone  who  infringed  the 
charter  of  the  Abbey  would,  it  was  declared,  be  specially 
condemned  by  St.  Peter,  when  he  sits  on  his  throne 
judging  the  twelve  tribes  of  Israel.5  Of  the  Abbey  of 
St.  Peter  at  Westminster,  as  of  the  more  celebrated 
basilica  of  St.  Peter  at  Rome,  it  may  be  said  that 
'  super  hanc  Petram '  the  Church  of  Westminster  has 
been  built. 

1  See  Chapter  VI. 

2  Dagobert,  in  like  manner,  had  a  peculiar  veneration  for  St.  Denys. 

3  Smith's  Antiquities,  p.  34. 

*  The  '  Cock '  in  Tothill  Street,  where  the  workmen  of  the  Abbey 
received  their  pay,  was  probably  from  the  cock  of  St.  Peter.  A  black 
marble  statue  of  St.  Peter  is  said  to  lie  at  the  bottom  of  the  well  under 
the  pump  in  Prince's  Street.  (Walcott,  7,3,  280.) 

5  Pope  Nicholas's  Letter,  Kemble  (Codex),  §  825. 


EDWARD  THE   CONFESSOR.  23 

Round  the  undoubted  fact  that  this  devotion  to 
St.  Peter  was  Edward's  prevailing  motive,  gathered, 
during  his  own  lifetime  or  immediately  after,  the 
various  legends  which  give  it  form  and  shape  in  con- 
nection with  the  special  peculiarities  of  the  Abbey. 

There  was  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Worcester,  '  far 
from  men  in  the  wilderness,  on  the  slope  of  a  wood,  in 
a  cave,  deep  down  in  the  grey  rock,'  a  holy  Le<Tenil  of 
hermit  '  of  great  age,  living  on  fruits  and  of  wor-"mt 
roots.'  One  night,  when,  after  reading  in  the  cester' 
Scriptures  '  how  hard  are  the  pains  of  hell,  and  how  the 
enduring  life  of  Heaven  is  sweet  and  to  be  desired,' 
he  could  neither  sleep  nor  repose,  St.  Peter  appeared  to 
him,  '  bright  and  beautiful,  like  to  a  clerk,'  and  warned 
him  to  tell  the  King  that  he  was  released  from  his 
vow  ;  that  on  that  very  day  his  messengers  would 
return  from  Home ;  that  '  at  Thorney,  two  leagues 
from  the  city,'  was  the  spot  marked  out  where,  in  an 
ancient  church,  'situated  low,'  he  was  to  establish  a 
Benedictine  monastery,  which  should  be  '  the  gate  of 
heaven,  the  ladder  of  prayer,  whence  those  who  serve- 
St.  Peter  there  shall  by  him  be  admitted  into  Para- 
dise.' The  hermit  writes  the  account  of  the  vision  on 
parchment,  seals  it  with  wax,  and  brings  it  to  the 
King,  who  compares  it  with  tbe  answer  of  the  messen- 
gers just  arrived  from  Koine,  and  determines  on  carry- 
ing out  the  design  as  the  Apostle  had  ordered.1 

Another  legend  -   still   more    precise    developed    the 

1  Camhrid-re  Life,  1740;  Oxford  Life,  270. 

-  That  tin's  story  was  not  in  existence  In-fore  the  Confessor's  teiirn, 
appears  from  its  absence  in  the  original  charter  of  Kd^ar  (Widmore's 
Jni/ii/ri/,  p.  2->).  The  first  trace  of  it  is  the  allusion  in  the  Confessor's 
charters,  if  genuine  (Ketnlile,  vol.  iv.  §§  824-<>).  It  does  not  appear 
in  the  contemporary  Harleian  Life,  lint  is  fully  developed  in  Sulcanl 
and  Ailred. 


24  FOUNDATION   OF   WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 

attractions  of  the  spot  still  further.     In  the  vision  to 
Legend  of     the  Worcestershire  hermit,  St.  Peter  was  re- 

Ednc  the  .-11 

fisherman,  ported  to  have  said  that  he  had  consecrated 
the  church  at  Thorney  with  his  own  hands.  How  this 
came  to  pass  was  now  circulated  in  versions  slightly 
varying  from  each  other,  but  of  which  the  main  feat- 
ures agreed.  It  was  on  a  certain  Sunday  night  in  the 
reign  of  King  Sebert,  the  eve  of  the  day  fixed  by  Mel- 
litus,  first  Bishop  of  London,  for  the  consecration  of  the 
original  monastery  in  the  Isle  of  Thorns,  that  a  fisher- 
man of  the  name  of  Edric  was  casting  his  nets  from  the 
shore  of  the  island  into  the  Thames.1  On  the  other 
side  of  the  river,  where  Lambeth  now  stands,  a  bright 
light  attracted  his  notice.  He  crossed,  and  found  a 
venerable  personage,  in  foreign  attire,  calling  for  some 
one  to  ferry  him  over  the  dark  stream.  Edric  con- 
sented. The  stranger  landed,  and  proceeded  at  once  to 
the  church.  On  his  way  he  evoked  with  his  staff  the  two 
springs  of  the  island.  The  air  suddenly  became  bright 
with  a  celestial  splendour.  The  building  stood  out 
clear,  '  without  darkness  or  shadow.'  A  host  of  angels, 
descending  and  reascending,  with  sweet  odours  and 
flaming  candles,  assisted,  and  the  church  was  dedicated 
with  the  usual  solemnities.  The  fisherman  remained 
in  his  boat,  so  awestruck  by  the  sight,  that  when  the 
mysterious  visitant  returned  and  asked  for  food,  he  was 
obliged  to  reply  that  he  had  caught  not  a  single  fish. 
Then  the  stranger  revealed  his  name :  '  I  am  Peter, 
keeper  of  the  keys  of  Heaven.  "When  Mellitus  ar- 
rives to-morrow,  tell  him  what  you  have  seen  ;  and 
show  him  the  token  that  I,  St.  Peter,  have  consecrated 
my  own  Church  of  St.  Peter,  Westminster,  and  have 

1  Cambridge  Life,  2060;  Sulcard  in  Dugdale's  Monasticon,  i.  289 


EDWARD  THE  CONFESSOR.  25 

anticipated  the  Bishop  of  London.1  For  yourself,  go 
out  into  the  river ;  you  will  catch  a  plentiful  supply 
of  fish,  whereof  the  larger  part  shall  be  salmon.  This 
I  have  granted  on  two  conditions  —  first,  that  you 
never  fish  again  on  Sundays;  secondly,  that  you  pay 
a  tithe  of  them  to  the  Abbey  of  Westminster.' 

The  next  day,  at  dawn,  '  the  Bishop  Mellitus  rises, 
and  begins  to  prepare  the  anointing  oils  and  the  utensils 
for  the  great  dedication.'  He,  with  the  King,  arrives 
at  the  appointed  hour.  At  the  door  they  are  met  by 
Edric  with  the  salmon  in  his  hand,  which  he  presents 
'  from  St.  Peter  in  a  gentle  manner  to  the  Bishop.'  He 
then  proceeds  to  point  out  the  marks  'of  the  twelve 
crosses  on  the  church,  the  walls  within  and  without 
moistened  with  holy  water,  the  letters  of  the  Greek 
alphabet  written  twice  over  distinctly  on  the  sand  '  of 
the  now  sacred  island,  '  the  traces  of  the  oil,  and  (chief- 
est  of  the  miracles)  the  droppings  of  the  angelic 
candles.'  The  Bishop  professed  himself  entirely  con- 
vinced, and  returned  from  the  church,  '  satisfied  that 
the  dedication  had  been  performed  sufficiently,  better, 
and  in  a  more  saintly  fashion  than  a  hundred  such  as 
he  could  have  done.'  2 

The  story  is  one  which  has  its  counterparts  in  other 
churches.  The  dedication  of  Einsiedlen.in  Switzerland, 
and  that  of  the  rock  at  Le  Puy,  in  Auvergne,3  were  as- 

1  '  Episcopalem  benedictionem  mete  sanctificationis  auctoritate 
pra'veni.'  (Ailrcd,  cc.  385,  386.  Sporley  and  Sulcard  in  Dugdale,  i. 
288,  289.) 

-  The  Human  annalists  are  not  satisfied  with  the  purely  British 
character  of  this  legend,  anil  add  that  Mellitus  being  in  doubt  deferred 
the  consecration  till  being  at  Home  in  a  council  he  consulted  with  I'ope 
Honiface  IV.,  who  decided  against  it.  Surius,  tom.  i.  in  Vit.  St.  Jan- 
uar.  ;  Haronius,  vol.  viii.  anno  (>10. 

:!  The  bells  were  rung  by  the  hands  of  angels,  and  the  church  was 
called  the  Chamber  of  Angels.  (Mantlet's  Hist,  tin  Vt-lay,  ii.  27.) 


26           FOUNDATION  OF   WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 

cribed  to  angelic  agency.  The  dedication  of  the  chapel 
of  St.  Joseph  of  Arimathea  at  Glastonbury  was  ascribed 
to  Christ  Himself,  who  appeared  to  warn  off  St.  David, 
as  St.  Peter  at  Westminster  did  Mellitus.  St.  Nicholas 
claimed  to  have  received  his  restored  pall,  and  St.  Denys 
the  sacraments  of  the  Church,  from  the  same  source,  and 
not  from  any  episcopal  or  priestly  hands.  All  these 
legends  have  in  common  the  merit  of  containing  a  lurk- 
ing protest  against  the  necessity  of  external  benediction 
for  things  or  persons  sacred  by  their  own  intrinsic  virtue 
—  a  covert  declaration  of  the  great  catholic  principle 
(to  use  Hooker's  words)  that  God's  grace  is  not  tied  '  to 
outward  forms.'  But  the  Westminster  tradition  pos- 
sesses, besides,  the  peculiar  charm  of  the  local  colouring 
of  the  scene,  and  betrays  the  peculiar  motives  whence  it 
arose.  We  are  carried  back  by  it  to  the  times  when 
the  wild  Thames,  with  its  fishermen  and  its  salmon,1 
was  still  an  essential  feature  of  the  neighbourhood  of 
the  Abbey.  We  see  in  it  the  importance  attached  to 
the  name  of  the  Apostle.  We  see  also  the  union  of 
innocent  fiction  with  worldly  craft,  which  marks  so 
many  legends  both  of  Pagan  and  Christian  times.2  It 
represents  the  earliest  protest  of  the  Abbots  of  West- 
minster against  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Bishops  of  Lon- 
don. It  was  recited  by  them  long  afterwards  as  the 
solid  foundation  of  the  inviolable  right  of  sanctuary  in 
Westminster.3  It  contains  the  claim  established  by 
them  on  the  tithe  of  the  Thames  fisheries  from  Grave- 
send  to  Staines.  A  lawsuit  was  successfully  carried 
by  the  Convent  of  Westminster  against  the  Rector  of 

1  A  '  Thames  salmon,'  with  asparagus,  was  still  a  customary  dish 
iu  the  time  of  Charles  I.     (State  Papers,  April  12,  1629.) 
-  See  Lectures  on  the  History  of  the  Eastern  Church,  p.  80. 
3  See  Chapter  V. 


EDWARD  THE   CONFESSOR.  27 

llotherhithe,  in  1282,  on  the  ground  that  St.  Peter  had 
granted  the  first  haul.1  The  parish  clergy,  however, 
struggled  against  the  claim,  and  the  monastic  historian 
llete,  in  the  gradually  increasing  scarcity  of  salmon, 
saw  a  Divine  judgment  on  the  fishermen  for  not  having 
complied  with  St.  Peter's  request.  Once  a  year,  as  late 
as  loS2,  one  of  the  fishermen,  as  representative  of  Edric, 
took  his  place  beside  the  Prior,  and  brought  in  a  salmon 
for  St.  Peter.  It  was  carried  in  state  through  the 
middle  of  the  Refectory.  The  Prior  and  the  whole  fra- 
ternity rose  as  it  passed  up  to  the  high  table,  and  then 
the  fisherman  received  ale  and  bread  from  the  cellarer 
in  return  for  the  fish's  tail.2 

The  little  Church  or  Chapel  of  St.  Peter,  thus  digni- 
fied by  the  stories  of  its  first  origin,  was  further  believed 
to  have  been  specially  endeared  to  Edward  by  Lpfrell(]  of 
two  miracles,  reported  to  have  occurred  within  the  Cr|i'i'le- 
it  in  his  own  lifetime.  The  first  was  the  cure  of  a 
crippled  Irishman,  Michael,  who  sate  in  the  road  be- 
tween the  Palace  and  'the  Chapel  of  St.  Peter,  which 
was  near,'  and  who  explained  to  the  inexorable  Hugo- 
lin  that,  after  six  pilgrimages  to  Koine  in  vain,  St.  Peter 
had  promised  his  cure  if  the  King  would,  on  his  own 
royal  neck,  carry  him  to  the  monastery.  The  King 
immediately  consented;  and,  amidst  the  scoffs  of  the 
Court,  bore  the  poor  man  to  the  steps  of  the  High 
Altar.  There  he  was  received  by  Godric  the  sacristan, 
and  walked  away  on  his  own  restored  feet,  hanging  his 
stool  on  the  wall  for  a  trophy/5 

Before  that  same  Higli  Altar  was  also   believed  to 
have  been  seen  one  of  the  Kucharistical  por-  i.c-md 
tents,  so  frequent  in  the  Middle  Ages.    A  child,  s;.,  rmnrnt. 

1   See  Xeale,  p.  f> ;   Ware's  Consuetudtnes. 

-  Pennant's  London,  \>.  57.  ;i  Cambridge  Life,  l'J-20-^020 


28  FOUNDATION   OF   WESTMINSTER   ABBEY. 

'  pure  and  bright  like  a  spirit,'  appeared  to  the  King 
iu  the  sacramental  elements.1  Leofric,  Earl  of  Mercia, 
who,  with  his  famous  countess  Godiva,  was  present, 
saw  it  also.  The  King  imposed  secrecy  upon  them 
during  his  life.  The  Earl  confided  the  secret  to  a  holy 
man  at  Worcester  (perhaps  the  hermit  before  men- 
tioned), who  placed  the  account  of  it  in  a  chest,  which, 
after  all  concerned  were  dead,  opened  of  itself  and  re- 
vealed the  sacred  deposit. 

Such  as  these  were  the  motives  of  Edward.  Under 
their  influence  was  fixed  what  has  ever  since  been  the 
local  centre  of  the  English  monarchy  and  nation  —  of  the 
Palace  and  the  Legislature  no  less  than  of  the  Abbey. 

There  had,  no  doubt,  already  existed,  by  the  side  of 
the  Thames,  an  occasional  resort  of  the  English  Kings. 
But  the  Roman  fortress  in  London,  or  the  Saxon  city 
of  Winchester,  had  been  hitherto  their  usual  abode. 
Edward  himself  had  formerly  spent  his  time  chiefly  at 
Palace  of  his  birthplace,  Islip,  or  at  the  rude  palace  on 

"West* 

minster.  the  rising  ground,  still  marked  by  various  an- 
tique remains,  above  '  Old  Windsor.' 2  But  now,  for 
the  sake  of  superintending  the  new  Church  at  West- 
minster, he  lived,  more  than  any  previous  king,  in  the 
regal  residence  (which  he  in  great  part  rebuilt)  close 
beside  it.  The  Abbey  and  the  Palace  grew  together, 
and  into  each  other,  in  the  closest  union  :  just  as  in 
Scotland,  a  few  years  later,  Dunfermline  Palace  and 
Dunfermline  Abbey  sprang  up  side  by  side  ;  and  again, 
Holyrood  Abbey  — first  within  the  Castle  of  Edinburgh, 
and  then  on  its  present  site  —  by  Holyrood  Palace. 
'  The  Chamber  of  St.  Edward,'  as  it  was  called  from 

1  Cambridge  Life,  2515-55.    It  appears  on  the  screen  of  the  chapel. 

2  Runny-Meole,  '  the  meadow  of  assemblies,'  derives  its  name  and 
its  original  association  from  this  neighbourhood  of  the  royal  residence. 


EDWARD   THE  CONFESSOR.  29 

him,  or  'the  Painted  Chamber,'  from  its  subsequent 
decorations,  was  the  kernel  of  the  Palace  of  West- 
minster. This  fronted  what  is  still  called  the  '  Old 
Palace  Yard,'  as  distinguished  from  the  '  New  Palace ' 
of  William  Rufus,  of  which  the  only  vestige  is  the 
framework  of  the  ancient  Hall,  looking  out  on  what, 
from  its  novelty  at  that  time,  was  called  the  '  New 
Palace  Yard,'  —  'New,'  like  the  ''New  Castle'  of  the 
Conqueror,  or  the  f New  College'  of  Wykeham. 

The  privileges  1  which  the  King  was  anxious  to  obtain 
for  the  new  institution  were  in  proportion  to  the  mag- 
nificence of  his  design,  and  the  difficulties  encountered 
for  this  purpose  are  a  proof  of  the  King's  eagerness  in 
the  cause.  As  always  in  such  cases,  it  was  necessary 
to  procure  a  confirmation  of  these  privileges  from  the 
Pope.  The  journey  to  Rome  was,  in  those  j()lirnpy  to 
troubled  times,  a  serious  affair.  The  deputa-  Rol"e' 
tion  consisted  of  Aldred,2  who  had  lately  been  trans- 
lated from  Worcester  to  York ;  the  King's  two  chap- 
lains, Gyso  and  Walter ;  Tosti  and  Gurth,  the  King's 
brothers-in-law  ;  and  Gospatrick,  kinsman  of  the  Con- 
fessor and  companion  of  Tosti.  Some  of  the  laymen 
had  taken  this  opportunity  to  make  their  pilgrimage  to 
the  graves  of  the  Apostles.  The  Archbishop  of  York 
had  also  his  own  private  ends  to  serve  —  the  grant  of 
the  pall  for  York,  and  a  dispensation  to  retain  the  see 
of  Worcester.  The  Pope  refused  his  request,  on  the 
not  unreasonable  ground  that  the  two  sees  should  not 
be  held  together.  Tosti  was  furious  on  behalf  of  his 
friend  Aldred,  but  could  not  gain  his  point.  On  their 

1  Cambridge   Life,  2.325.      Kemble,  §§  824,  825.     Sec  Chapter  V. 
The  exact  statement  of  these  privileges  depends  on  the  genuineness  of 
the  charters,  but  their  general  outline  is  unquestionable 

2  Harleian  Life,  755-80. 


30  FOUNDATION   OF   WESTMINSTER   ABBEY, 

return  they  were  attacked  by  a  band  of  robbers  at  Sutri, 
a  spot  still  dangerous  for  the  same  reason.  Some  of 
the  party  were  stripped  to  the  skin  —  amongst  them 
the  Archbishop  of  York.1  Tosti  was  saved  only  by  the 
magnificent  appearance  of  Gospatrick,  who  rode  before, 
and  misled  the  robbers  into  the  belief  that  he  was  the 
powerful  Karl.2  Meanwhile  Tosti  returned  to  Rome,  in 
a  state  of  fierce  indignation,  and,  with  his  well-known 
'  adamantine  obstinacy,'  declared  that  he  would  take 
measures  for  stopping  Peter's  pence  from  England,  by 
making  it  known  that  the  Pope,  whose  claims  were  so 
formidable  abroad,  was  in  the  hands  of  robbers  at  home.3 
With  this  threat  (so  often  repeated  in  every  form  and 
tone  since)  he  carried  the  suit  of  his  friend  ;  and  the 
deputation  returned,  not  only  with  the  privileges  of 
Westminster,  but  with  the  questionable  confirmation  of 
Aldred's  questionable  demands. 

The  Abbey  had  been  fifteen  years  in  building.  The 
King  had  spent  upon  it  one-tenth  of  the  property  of 
Building  of  the  kingdom.  It  was  to  be  a  marvel  of  its 
the  Abbey.  kmcj  ^\s  jn  jts  orjo'in  it  bore  the  traces  of 

the  fantastic  childish  character  of  the  King  and  of  the 
age,  in  its  architecture  it  bore  the  stamp  of  the  peculiar 
position  which  Edward  occupied  in  English  history  be- 
tween Saxon  and  Norman.  By  birth  he  was  a  Saxon, 
but  in  all  else  he  was  a  foreigner.  Accordingly,  the 
Church  at  Westminster  was  a  wide  sweeping  innovation 
on  all  that  had  been  seen  before.4  '  Destroying  the  old 

1  Stubbs,  c.  1702.     William  of  Malmesbury  in  Life  of  Witlfstan,  pt. 
ii.  c.  10.     (Anglia  Sacra,  vol.  ii.  250.) 

2  Harlcian  Life,  770. 

3  Brompton,  c.  952  :  Knyghton,  c.  2330. 

4  The  collegiate  church  of  Waltham,  which  was  founded  by  Harold 
in  A.  D.  1060,  must  have  been  the  nearest  approach  to  this.     But  what- 
ever view  is  taken  of  the  present  structure  of  the  church  at  Waltham, 


EDWARD  THE  CONFESSOR.  31 

building,'  he  says  in  his  Charter,  '  I  have  built  up  a 
new  one  from  the  very  foundation.'1  Its  fame  as  'a 
new  style 2  of  composition  '  lingered  in  the  minds  of 
men  for  generations.  It  was  the  first  cruciform  church 
in  England,  from  which  all  the  rest  of  like  shape  were 
copied  —  an  expression  of  the  increasing  hold  which 
the  idea  of  the  Crucifixion  in  the  tenth  century  had 
laid  on  the  imagination  of  Europe.3  Its  massive  roof 
and  pillars  formed  a  contrast  witli  the  rude  wooden 
rafters  and  beams  of  the  common  Saxon  churches.  Its 
very  size  —  occupying,  as  it  did,  almost  the  whole  area 
of  the  present  building — was  in  itself  portentous.  The 
deep  foundations,  of  large  square  blocks  of  gray  stone, 
were  duly  laid.  The  east  end  was  rounded  into  an 
apse.  A  tower  rose  in  the  centre  crowned  by  a  cupola 
of  wood.  At  the  western  end  were  erected  two  smaller 
towers,  with  five  large  bells.  The  hard  strong  stones 
were  richly  sculptured.  The  windows  were  filled  with 
stained  glass.  The  roof  was  covered  with  lead.  The 
cloisters,  chapter-house,  refectory,  dormitory,  the  in- 
firmary, with  its  spacious  chapel,4  if  not  completed  by 
Edward,  were  all  begun,  and  finished  in  the  next  gener- 
ation on  the  same  plan.  This  structure,  venerable  as 

it  nas  considerably  smaller  than  the  Abbey.  The  proof  of  the  si/.e  of 
the  Confessor's  church  rests  on  the  facts —  I.  That  the  Lady  Chapel  of 
Henry  III.  must  have  abutted  on  the  east  end  of  the  old  choir  as  ol'ihe 
present.  2.  That  the  cloisters  occupied  the  same  relative  position,  as 
may  l>e  seen  from  the  existing  substructures.  3.  That  the  pillars,  as 
excavated  in  the  choir  in  the  repairs  of  1866,  stand  at  the  same  dU- 
tance  from  each  other  as  the  present  pillars.  The  nave  of  the  church 
and  the  chapel  of  St.  Catherine  must  have  been  finished  under  Henry  I. 
the  south  cloister  under  William  Rttfus. 

1  Kemlile,  Xo.  824,  iv.  170. 

2  Matthew  1'aris,  p.  -2. 

3  Milman's  ffiatory  of  Latin  Christianity,  vi.  507. 

4  Cambridge  Life,  2270-2310. 


32  FOUNDATION  OF   WESTMINSTER   ABBEY. 

it  would  be  if  it  had  lasted  to  our  time,  has  almost 
entirely  vanished.  Possibly  one  vast  dark  arch  in  the 
southern  transept  —  certainly  the  substructures  of  the 
dormitory,  with  their  huge  pillars,  '  grand  and  regal  at 
the  bases  and  capitals ' 1  —  the  massive  low-browed 
passage,  leading  from  the  great  cloister  to  Little  Dean's 
Yard — and  some  portions  of  the  refectory  and  of  the 
infirmary  chapel,  remain  as  specimens  of  the  work 
which  astonished  the  last  age  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  and 
the  first  age  of  the  Norman  monarchy.2 

The  institution  was  made  as  new  as  the  building. 
Abbot  Edwin  remained;  but  a  large  body  of  monks 
was  imported  from  Exeter,3  coincidently  witli  the  re- 
moval of  the  see  of  Crediton  to  Exeter  in  the  person 
of  the  King's  friend  Leofwin.  The  services  still  con- 
tinued in  the  old  building  whilst  the  new  one  was 
rising.  A  small  chapel,  dedicated  to  St.  Margaret, 
which  stood  on  the  north  side  of  the  present  Abbey,4 
is  said  to  have  been  pulled  down ;  and  a  new  church, 
bearing  the  same  name,  was  built  on  the  site  of  the 
present  Church  of  St.  Margaret.5  The  affection  enter- 
tained for  the  martyr-saint  of  Antioch  by  the  House  of 
Cerdic  appears  in  the  continuation  of  her  name  in 
Edward's  grandniece,  Margaret  of  Scotland. 

The  end  of  the  Confessor  was  now  at  hand.  Two 
legends  mark  its  approach.  The  first  is  as  follows.  1 1 
was  at  Easter.3  He  was  sitting  in  his  gold-embroidered 

1  Cambridge  Life,  2300. 

2  See  G/eunings  of  Wesinunsicr  Abbey,  pp.  3,  4  ;  Freeman's  Aonitan 
Conquest,  ii.  509. 

3  Cambridge  Life,  2390;  Oxford  Life,  381. 

4  Ackermann,  i.  86,  87. 

5  "VVidmore,  p.  12.      Compare   the  same   process  at  Pershore  and 
Norwi^b. 

b  William  cf  Malmesbury,  ii.  13. 


EDWARD   THE   CONFESSOR.  33 

robe,  and  solemnly  crowned,  in  the  midst  of  his  cour- 
tiers, who  were  voraciously  devouring  their  food  after 
the  long  abstinence  of  Lent.  On  a  sudden  Legend  «t 

•11-  mi  t'le  ^even 

he  sank  into  a  deep  abstraction.  Ihen  came  sleepers. 
one  of  his  curious  laughs,1  and  again  his  rapt  medi- 
tation. He  retired  into  his  chamber,  and  was  followed 
by  Duke  Harold,  the  Archbishop,  and  the  Abbot  of 
Westminster.2  To  them  he  confided  his  vision.  He 
had  seen  the  Seven  Sleepers  of  Ephesus  suddenly  turn 
from  their  right  sides  to  their  left,  and  recognised  in 
this  omen  the  sign  of  war,  famine,  and  pestilence  for 
the  coming  seventy  years,  during  which  the  sleepers 
were  to  lie  in  their  new  position.  Immediately  on 
hearing  this,  the  Duke  despatched  a  knight,  the  Arch- 
bishop a  bishop,  the  Abbot  a  monk,  to  the  Emperor  of 
Constantinople.3  To  Mount  Celion  under  his  guidance 
they  went,  and  there  found  the  Seven  Sleepers  as  the 
King  had  seen  them.  The  proof  of  this  portent  at  once 
confirmed  the  King's  prevision,  and  received  its  own 
confirmation  in  the  violent  convulsions  which  disturbed 
the  close  of  the  eleventh  century. 

The  other  legend  has  a  more  personal  character.  The 
King  was  on  his  way  to  the  dedication  of  the  Chapel 
of  St.  John  the  Evangelist.4  As  Peter,  the  Le-remi 

ol  the 

Prince  of  the  Apostles,  was  the  saint  before  I'iunim. 
whom  the  Confessor  trembled  with  a  mysterious  awe, 

1  Ailred,  c.  395. 

-  The  'Duke  Harold  '  is  named  in  tlio  legend,  '  Lo  Dues  Ilaranldx. ' 
( Cfimbridf/e  Life,  338)  ;  and  it  can  hardly  lie  doubted  that  by  the  pre- 
late and  abbot  were  meant  the  Primate  and  the  Abbot  of  Westminster. 

3  Oxford  Life,  409.     Their  journey  is  represented  in  the  screen. 

4  By  one  of  the  Saxon  chroniclers  (see  Freeman's  Norman  ('ontjntst, 
ii.  512)  this  church  is  said  to  have  been  at  Claverin<r.     There  was  a 
chapel  of  St.  John  close  to  the  palace,  now  that  of  St.  Stephen  (Smith, 
127).     The  parish  of  St.  John,  in  Westminster,  was  created  in  the  last 
century. 

VOL.  i.  —  3 


34  FOUNDATION  OF    WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 

John,  the  Apostle  of  Love,  was  the  saint  whom  he 
venerated  with  a  familiar  tenderness.1  A  beggar  im- 
plored him  for  the  love  of  St.  John,  to  bestow  alms 
upon  him.  Hugolin  was  not  to  be  found.  In  the 
chest  there  was  no  gold  or  silver.  The  King  remained 
in  silent  thought,  and  then  drew  off  from  his  hand  a 
ring,  '  large,  royal,  and  beautiful,'  which  he  gave  to  the 
beggar,  who  vanished.  Two  English  pilgrims,  from  the 
town  of  Ludlow,2  shortly  afterwards  found  themselves 
benighted  in  Syria  ;  when  suddenly  the  path  was  lighted 
up,  and  an  old  man,  white  and  hoary,  preceded  by  two 
tapers,  accosted  them.  They  told  him  of  their  country 
and  their . saintly  King,  on  which  the  old  man,  'joy- 
ously like  to  a  clerk,'  guided  them  to  a  hostelry,  and 
announced  that  he  was  John  the  Evangelist,  the  spe- 
cial friend  of  Edward ;  and  gave  them  the  ring  to  carry 
back,  with  the  warning  that  in  six  months  the  King 
should  be  with  him  in  Paradise.  The  pilgrims  returned. 
They  found  the  King  at  his  palace  in  Essex,  said  to  be 
called  from  this  incident  Havering  attc  Bower,  and  with 
a  church  dedicated  to  St.  John  the  Evangelist.  He 
acknowledged  the  ring,  and  prepared  for  his  end 
accordingly.3 

The  long-expected  day  of  the  dedication  of  the  Abbey 
at   last   arrived.      '  At    Midwinter,'    says    the    Saxon 

1  Ailred,  c.  .397. 

2  Hence   the  representation  of  the  story  in  the  painted  window  of 
St.  Lawrence's  Church  at  Ludlow. 

3  Camhridge  Life,  3455-3590;  Oxford  Life,  410-40.     The  story  is 
one  of  those  which  attached  to  St.  John,  from  the  old  belief  (John  xxi. 
2-'!)  that  he  was  not  dead,  but  sleeping.     Compare  his  apparition  to 
James  IV.   at  Linlithgow.      It  occupies  three  compartments  on  the 
screen,  and  is  also  to  be  seen  on  the  tiles  of  the  Chapter-house  floor. 
(See  Archceol.   xxix.  39.)     From  the  time  of  Henry  III.  a  figure  of 
St.  John,  as  the  pilgrim,  stood  by  the  Confessor's  shrine ;  and  one  such 
still  stands  in  Heiirv  V.'s  Chantrv. 


EDWARD  THE   CONFESSOR.  35 

Chronicle,  'King   Edward  came  to  Westminster,  and 
had  the  minster  there  consecrated,  which  he  Dedication 
had  himself  built,  to  the  honour  of  God  and  Ibbey. 
St.  Peter,  and  all  God's  saints.'    It  was  at  Christmas- 
time (when,  as  usual  at  that  age,  the  Court      ices. 
assembled)  that  the  dedication  so  eagerly  desired  was 
to  be  accomplished.     On  Christmas  Day  he  appeared, 
according  to  custom,  wearing  his  royal  crown  ; ]  Det.ember 
but  on  Christmas  night,  his  strength,  prema- 
turely  exhausted,    suddenly  gave    way.      The   mortal 

illness,  long  anticipated,  set  in.     He  struggled, 

iocs. 
however,  through  the  three  next  days,  even 

appearing,  with  his  occasional  bursts  of  hilarity,  in  the 
stately  banquets  with  the  bishops  and  nobles.  Decmiber 
On  St.  John's  Day  he  grew  so  rapidly  worse, 
that  he  gave  orders  for  the  solemnity  to  be  fixed  for 
the  morrow.2     On  the  morning  of  that  morrow  Depember 
(Wednesday,  the  Feast  of  the  Holy  Innocents, 
Childermas3)  he  roused  himself  sufficiently  to  sign  the 
charter  of  the  Foundation.     The  peculiar  nature  of  the 
Festival  may  have  had  an  attraction  for  the  innocent 
character  of  the  King;  but  in  the  later  Middle  Ages, 
and  even  down  to  the  last  century,  a,  strong  prejudice 
prevailed   against  beginning  anything    of   moment   on 
that  day.4     If  this  belief  existed  already  in  the  time  of 
the  Confessor,  the  selection  of  the  day  is  a  proof  of  the 
haste  with  which  the  dedication  was  pushed  forward. 
It  is,  at  any  rate,  an  instance  of  a  most  auspicious  work 
begun  (if  so  be)  on  the  most  inauspicious  day  of  the 

1  Cambridge  Life,  3610. 

2  Ailred,  c.  :U)9. 

8  So  in  the  Charter  itself  (Keinblp,  iv.  180).     Robert  of  Gloucester 
and  Ailred  of  Rievanlx  fix  it  on  St.  John's  Dav. 

4  Home's  Everyday  JhoL;  i.  1048.     See  Chapter  II. 


36  FOUNDATION   OF  WESTMINSTER   ABBEY. 

year.  The  signatures  which  follow  the  King's  acquire 
a  tragic  interest  in  the  light  of  the  events  of  the  next 
few  months.  Edith  the  Queen,  her  brothers  Harold 
and  Gurth,  Stigand  and  Aldred,  the  two  rival  primates, 
are  the  most  conspicuous.  They,  as  the  King's  illness 
grew  upon  him,  took  his  place  at  the  consecration.  He 
himself  had  arranged  the  ornaments,  gifts,  and  relics  ; 1 
but  the  Queen  presided  at  the  ceremony2  (she  is  queen, 
as  he  is  king,  both  in  church  3  and  in  palace) ;  and  the 
walls  of  Westminster  Abbey,  then  white  and  fresh  from 
the  workman's  tools,  received  from  Stigand  their  first 
consecration  —  the  first  which,  according  to  the  legend 
of  St.  Peter's  visit,  had  ever  been  given  to  the  spot  by 
mortal  hands.  By  that  effort  the  enfeebled  frame  and 
overstrained  spirit  of  the  King  were  worn  out.  On  the 
evening  of  Innocents'  Day  he  sank  into  a  deep  stupor 
and  was  laid  in  the  chamber  in  Westminster  Palace 
which  long  afterwards  bore  his  name.  On  the  third 
day,  a  startling  rally  took  place.  His  voice 

December  J  '  J 

again  sounded  loud  and  clear;  his  face  resumed 
its  brightness.  But  it  was  the  rally  of  delirium.  A 
few  incoherent  sentences  broke  from  his  lips.  He  de- 
scribed how  in  his  trance  he  had  seen  two  holy  monks 
whom  he  remembered  in  Normandy,  and  how  they 
foretold  to  him  the  coming  disasters,  which  should  only 
be  ended  when  '  the  green  tree,  after  severance  from  its 
trunk  and  removal  to  the  distance  of  three  acres, 

1  For  the  relics,  see  Dart,  i.  37.    They  consisted  of  the  usual  extraor- 
dinary fragments  of  the  dresses,  etc.,  of  the  most  sacred  personages. 
The  most  remarkable  were  the  girdle  dropt  by  the  Virgin  to  convince 
St.  Thomas  of  her  assumption  (which  is  also  shown  in  the  Batopanli 
Convent  of  Mount  Athos).  and  the  cross  which  came  over  sea,  against 
winds  and  waves,  with  the  Confessor  from  Normandy. 

2  Ailred,  c.  399. 

3  Cambridge  Life,  3655. 


EDWARD  THE  CONFESSOR.  37 

should  return  to  its -parent  stem,  and  again  bear  leaf 
and  fruit  and  flower.'  The  Queen  was  sitting  on  the 
ground,  fondling  his  cold  feet  in  her  lap.1  Beside  her 
stood  her  brother  Harold,  Rodbert  the  keeper  of  the 
palace,  and  others  who  had  been  called  in  by  Edward's 
revival.  They  were  all  terror-struck.  Archbishop  Sti- 
gand  alone  had  the  courage  to  whisper  into  Harold's 
ear  that  the  aged  King  was  doting.  The  others  care- 
fully 2  caught  his  words ;  and  the  courtly  poet  of  the 
next  century  rejoiced  to  trace  in  '  the  three 

106G. 

acres  '  the  reigns  of  the  three  illegitimate  kings 

O  O  <T> 

who  followed  ;  and  in  the  resuscitation  of  '  the  parent 
tree,'  the  marriage  of  the  First  Henry  with  the  Saxon 
Maud,  and  their  ultimate  issue  in  the  Third  Henry.3 
Then  followed  a  calm,  and  on  the  fifth  day  afterwards, 
with  words  variously  reported,  respecting  the  Dpath 
Queen,  the  succession,  and  the  '  hope  that  he  £onressor 
was  passing  from  the  land  of  the  dead  to  the  Ja"'  ° 
land   of    the   living,'  he    breathed    his    last;   and    'St. 
Peter,  his  friend,  opened  the  gats  of  Paradise,  and  St. 
John,  his   own   dear   one,   led  him   before   the   Divine 
Majesty.' 

A  horror,  it  is  described,  of  great  darkness  filled  the 
whole  island.     With  him,  the  last  lineal  descendant  of 
Cerdic,  it  seemed  as  if  the  happiness,  the  strength,  the 
liberty  of  the  English  people  had  vanished  away.4     So 
gloomy  were   the   forebodings,  so   urgent   the  Mia  bm.hl 
dangers  which  seemed  to   press,  that  on   the     •Im-(i 
very  next  day  (Friday,5  the  Festival  of  the  Epiphany), 

1  Ilarloinn  Life,  14SO-!)0.  -  Cambridge  Life,  3714-85. 

;i   II. id.  .'{'.t.'U.     See  Chn]itpr  III. 

4  Ailred,  e.  402.      Saxon  Ohroniele,  A.  i>.  1000. 

5  The  usual  date  of  his  death  is  January  ">.     In  Fal>ian,  Robert  of 
Gloucester,  and  the  C'ambridire  Life  it  is  January  4. 


38  FOUNDATION  OF   WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 

took  place  at  once  his  own  funeral  and  the  coronation 
of  his  successor. 

We  must  reserve  the  other  event  of  that  memorable 
day  —  the  coronation  of  Harold  —  for  the  next  chapter, 
and  follow  the  Confessor  to  his  grave.     The  body,  as  it 
lay  in  the  palace,  seemed  for  a  moment  to  recover  its 
lifelike  expression.     The  unearthly  smile  played  once 
more  over  the  rosy  cheeks,  the  white  beard  beneath 
seemed  whiter,  and  the  thin  stretched-out  ringers  paler 
and  more  transparent   than   ever.1     As  usual   in   the 
funerals  of  all  our  earlier  sovereigns,  he  was  attired 
in  his  royal  habiliments :  his  crown  upon  his  head ;  a 
crucifix 2  of  gold,  with  a  golden  chain  round  his  neck ; 
the  pilgrim's  ring  on  his  hand.     Crowds  flocked  from 
all  the  neighbouring  villages.     The  prelates  and  mag- 
nates assisted,  and  the  body  was  laid  before  the  high 
altar.     Thrice   at  least   it   has   since   been   identified : 
once  when,  in  the  curiosity  to  know  whether  it  still 
remained  uncorrupt,  the  grave  was  opened  by 
order  of  Henry  I.,  in  the  presence  of  Bishop 
Gundulf,  who  plucked  out  a  hair  from  the  long  white 
beard;3  again  when,  on  its  'translation  '  by  Henry  II., 
no,0,.       the  ring  was  withdrawn  ;  and  again  at  its  final 
1269.       removal  to  its  present  position  by  Henry  III. 
It  must  probably  also  have  been  seen  both  during  its 
1538.       disturbance  by  Henry  VIII.,  and  its  replace- 
ir.57.       ment  by  Alary ;  and  for  a  moment  the  inte- 
1685.       rjor  Of  t]ie  coffin  was  disclosed,  when  a  rafter 
broke  in  upon  it  after  the  coronation  of  James  II.4 
The  crucifix  and  ring  were  given  to  the  King. 

1  Harleian  Life,  Io90.     Ailred,  c.  402. 

2  Taylor's  Narrative  of  the  Finding  of  the  Crucifix  in  1688,  p.  12. 

3  Ailred,  c.  408. 

4  Shortly  after  the  coronation  of  James  II.,  in  removing  the  scaffold, 
the  coffin  in  which  it  was  enclosed  '  was  found  to  be  broke/  and  '  Charles 


EDWARD  THE  CONFESSOR.  39 

In  the  centre  of  Westminster  Abbey  thus  lies  its 
Founder,  and  such  is  the  story  of  its  foundation.  Even 
apart  from  the  legendary  elements  in  which  it  Effects  of 

.       .          ,         ,     .  -his  char- 

lS  involved,  it  is  impossible  not  to  be  struck  acteron 

.  .  .  theFoun- 

by  the  fantastic  character  or  all  its  circum-  aation. 
stances.  We  seem  to  be  in  a  world  of  poetry.  Edward 
is  four  centuries  later  than  Ethelbert  and  Augustine ; 
but  the  origin  of  Canterbury  is  commonplace  and  pro- 
saic compared  with  the  origin  of  Westminster.  We 
can  hardly  imagine  a  figure  more  incongruous  to  the 
soberness  of  later  times  than  the  quaint,  irresolute, 
wayward  Prince  whose  chief  characteristics  have  been 
just  described.  His  titles  of  Confessor  and  Saint  be- 
long not  to  the  general  instincts  of  Christendom,  but 
to  the  most  transitory  feelings  of  the  age  —  the  savage 
struggles  between  Saxon  and  Dane,  the  worldly  policy 
of  Norman  rulers,  the  lingering  regrets  of  Saxon  sub- 


Taylor,  Gent,'  '  put  his  hand  into  the  hole,  and  turning  the  bones, 
which  he  felt  there,  drew  from  underneath  the  shoulder-hones  '  a  cru- 
cifix and  gold  chain,  which  he  showed  to  San  croft,  Dugdale,  and  finally 
to  the  King,  who  took  possession  of  it,  and  had  the  coffin  closed.  It 
was  remarked  as  an  omen  that  the  relics  were  discovered  on  Juno  11, 
the  day  of  Alonmouth's  landing,  and  given  to  the  King  on  Julv  l>.  the 
day  of  his  victory  at  Sedgmoor.  (Taylor's  Nn /•/•(it/re,  p.  lf>.)  The 
story  is  doubted  by  Gongh  (Sepulchral  Monuments,  ii.  7),  but  is  strongly 
confirmed  by  the  positive  assertion  of  Jam«s  II.  to  Evelyn  (Memoirs, 
iii.  177),  and  to  Pepys  (Let/era  in  dnnden  Sot-iiti/,  No.  Ixxxviii.  p.  '21  1), 
and  of  Patrick,  who  was  Prebendarv  of  Westminster  at  the  time.  '  The 
workmen,'  he  says,  'chanced  to  have  a  look  at  the  tomb  of  Edward  the 
Confessor,  so  that  thev  could  see  the  shroud  in  which  his  body  was 
wrapped,  which  was  a  mixed  coloured  silk  very  frail.'  In  the  original 
MS.  of  Patrick's  autobiography,  a  small  piece  of  stuff  less  than  an  inch 
square,  answering  this  description,  is  pinned  to  the  paper,  evidently  as 
a  specimen  of  the  shroud.  '  It  appears  to  be  a  woven  fabric  of  black 
and  yellow  silk.'  (Patrick,  ix.  560.)  The  gold  crucifix  and  ring  are 
said  to  have  been  on  James's  person  when  he  was  rifled  by  the  Favor- 
sham  fishermen  in  1C88,  and  to  have  beeii  then  taken  from  him 
(Thoresby's  Diunj.) 


40  FOUNDATION   OF   WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 

jects.  His  opinions,  his  prevailing  motives,  were  such 
as  in  no  part  of  modern  Europe  would  now  be  shared 
by  any  educated  teacher  or  ruler.  But  in  spite  of  these 
irreconcilable  differences,  there  was  a  solid  ground  for 
the  charm  which  he  exercised  over  his  contemporaries. 
His  childish  and  eccentric  fancies  have  passed  away; 
but  his  innocent  faith  and  his  sympathy  with  his  people 
are  qualities  which,  even  in  our  altered  times,  may  still 
retain  their  place  in  the  economy  of  the  world.  West- 
minster Abbey,  so  we  hear  it  said,  sometimes  with  a 
cynical  sneer,  sometimes  with  a  timorous  scruple,  has 
admitted  within  its  walls  many  who  have  been  great 
without  being  good,  noble  with  a  nobleness  of  the  earth 
earthy,  worldly  with  the  wisdom  of  this  world.  ]>ut 
it  is  a  counterbalancing  reflection,  that  the  central 
tomb,  round  which  all  those  famous  names  have  clus- 
tered, contains  the  ashes  of  one  who,  weak  and  erring 
as  he  was,  rests  his  claims  of  interment  here  not  on 
any  act  of  power  or  fame,  but  only  on  his  artless  piety 
and  simple  goodness.  He  —  towards  whose  dust  was 
attracted  the  fierce  Norman,  and  the  proud  Plantagenet, 
and  the  grasping  Tudor,  and  the  fickle  Stuart,  even  the 
Independent  Oliver,1  the  Dutch  William,  and  the  Han- 
overian George  —  was  one  whose  humble  graces  are 
within  the  reach  of  every  man,  woman,  and  child  of 
every  time,  if  we  rightly  part  the  immortal  substance 
from  the  perishable  form. 

Secondly,  the  foundation  of  the  Abbey  and  the  char- 
acter of  its  Founder,  consciously  or  unconsciously,  in- 
connection  augurated  the  greatest  change  which,  with  one 

with  the 

conquest,  exception,  the  English  nation  has  witnessed 
from  that  time  till  this.  Not  in  vain  had  the  slumbers 

1  Both  Cromwell  (see  Marvell's  poem  on  his  funeral)  and  George  II 
(see  Chapter  III.)  were  compared  to  the  Confessor  on  their  deaths. 


EDWARD   THE   CONFESSOR.  41 

of  the  Seven  Sleepers  been  disturbed ;  nor  in  vain  the 
ghosts  of  the  two  Norman  monks  haunted  the  Con- 
fessor's deathbed,  with  their  dismal  warnings ;  nor  in 
vain  the  comet  appeared  above  the  Abbey,  towards 
which,  in  the  Bayeux  Tapestry,  every  eye  is  strained, 
and  every  finger  pointing.  The  Abbey  itself  —  the  chief 
work  of  the  Confessor's  life,  the  last  relic  of  the  Royal 
House  of  Cerdic  —  was  the  shadow  cast  before  the  com- 
ing event,  the  portent  of  the  mighty  future.  When 
Harold  stood  by  the  side  of  his  brother  Gurth  and  his 
sister  Edith  on  the  day  of  the  dedication,  and  signed  (if 
so  be)  his  name  with  theirs  as  witness  to  the  Charter 
of  the  Abbey,  he  might  have  seen  that  he  was  sealing 
his  own  doom,  and  preparing  for  his  own  destruction. 
The  solid  pillars,  the  ponderous  arches,  the  huge  edifice, 
with  triple  tower  and  sculptured  stones  and  storied 
windows,  that  arose  in  the  place  and  in  the  midst  of 
the  humble  wooden  churches  and  wattled  tenements 
of  the  Saxon  period,  might  have  warned  the  nobles 
who  were  present  that  the  days  of  their  rule  were 
numbered,  and  that  the  avenging,  civilising,  stimulat- 
ing hand  of  another  and  a  mightier  race  was  at  work, 
which  would  change  the  whole  face  of  their  language, 
their  manners,  their  church,  and  their  commonwealth. 

The  Abbey,  so  far  exceeding  the  demands  of  the  dull 
and  stagnant  minds  of  our  Anglo-Saxon  ancestors,  was 
founded  not  only  in  faith  but  in  hope:  in  the  hope  that 
England  had  yet  a  glorious  career  to  run  :  that  the  line 
of  her  sovereigns  would  not  be  broken  even  when  the 
race  of  Alfred  ceased  to  reign  ;  that  the  troubles  which 
the  Confessor  saw,  in  prophetic  vision,  darkening  the 
whole  horizon  of  Europe,  would  give  way  before  a 
brighter  day  than  he,  or  any  living  man,  in  the  gloom 
of  that  disastrous  winter  and  of  that  boisterous  age, 


42  FOUNDATION  OF   WESTMINSTER   ABBEY. 

could  venture  to  anticipate.  The  Norman  church  erected 
by  the  Saxon  king  —  the  new  future  springing  out  of 
the  dying  past  —  the  institution,  founded  for  a  special 
and  transitory  purpose,  expanding,  till  it  was  co-exten- 
sive with  the  interests  of  the  whole  commonwealth 
through  all  its  stages  —  are  standing  monuments  of 
the  continuity  by  which  in  England  the  new  has  been 
ever  intertwined  with  the  old ;  liberty  thriving  side  by 
side  with  precedent,  the  days  of  the  English  Church 
and  State  '  linked  '  each  to  each  '  by  natural  piety.' 

Again,  it  may  be  almost  said  that  the  Abbey  has 
risen  and  fallen  in  proportion  to  the  growth  of  the 
connection  strong  English  instinct  of  which,  in  spite  of 
English  his  Norman  tendencies,  Edward  was  the  rep- 
tion.  resentative.  The  first  miracle  believed  to  have 

been  wrought  at  his  tomb  exemplifies,  as  in  a  parable, 
the  rooted  characteristics  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  basis  of 
Miracle  of  the  monarchy.  When,  after  the  Eevolution 

Wulfstan's  ^.  T,  i 

crozier.  or  the  Norman  Conquest,  a  Irench  and  foreign 
hierarchy  was  substituted  for  the  native  prelates,  one 
Saxon  bishop  alone  remained  —  Wulfstan,  Bishop  of 
Worcester.  A  Council  was  summoned  to  Westminster, 
over  which  the  Norman  king  and  the  Norman  primate 
presided,  and  Wull'stan  was  declared  incapable  of  hold- 
ing his  office  because  he  could  not  speak  French.1  The 
old  man,  down  to  this  moment  compliant  even  to  ex- 
cess, was  inspired  with  unusual  energy.  He  walked 
from  St.  Catherine's  Chapel2  straight  into  the  Abbey. 
The  King  and  the  prelates  followed.  He  laid  his  pas- 
toral staff  on  the  Confessor's  tomb  before  the  high 
altar.  First  he  spoke  in  Saxon  to  the  dead  King : 

1  M.  Paris,  20  ;  Ann.  Burt.,  A.  D.  1211  ;  Knyghton,  c.  2368  (Thierry, 
ii.  224). 

2  There,  doubtless,  the  Council  must  have  been  held.    See  Chapter  V. 


EDWARD  THE  CONFESSOR.  43 

'  Edward,  thou  gavest  me  the  staff ;  to  thee  I  return  it.' 
Then,  with  the  few  Norman  words  that  he  could  com- 
mand, he  turned  to  the  living  King :  '  A  better  than 
thou  gave  it  to  me  —  take  it  if  thou  canst.'1  It  re- 
mained fixed  in  the  solid  stone,2  and  Wulfstan  was  left 
at  peace  in  his  see.  Long  afterwards,  King  John,  in 
arguing  for  the  supremacy  of  the  Crown  of  England 
in  matters  ecclesiastical,  urged  this  story  at  length  in 
answer  to  the  claims  of  the  Papal  Legate.  Pandulf 
answered,  with  a  sneer,  that  John  was  more  like  the 
Conqueror  than  the  Confessor.3  But,  in  fact,  John  had 
rightly  discerned  the  principle  at  stake,  and  the  legend 
expressed  the  deep-seated  feeling  of  the  English  people, 
that  in  the  English  Crown  and  Law  lies  the  true  safe- 
guard of  the  rights  of  the  English  clergy.  Edward  the 
Confessor's  tomb  thus,  like  the  Abbey  which  incases 
it,  contains  an  aspect  of  the  complex  union  of  Church 
and  State  of  which  all  English  history  is  a  practical 
fulfilment. 

In  the  earliest  and  nearly  the  only  representation 
which  exists  of  the  Confessor's  building  —  that  in  the 
Bayeux  Tapestry  — there  is  the  figure  of  a  man  on  the 
roof,  with  one  hand  resting  on  the  tower  of  the  Palace 
of  Westminster,  and  with  the  other  grasping  the 
weathercock  of  the  Abbey.  The  probable  intention  of 
this  figure  is  to  indicate  the  close  contiguity  of  the  two 
buildings.  If  so,  it  is  the  natural  architectural  expres- 
sion of  a  truth  valuable  everywhere,  but  especially  dear 
to  Englishmen.  The  close  incorporation  of  the  Palace 
and  the  Abbey  from  its  earliest  days  is  a  likeness  of 
the  whole  English  Constitution  —  a  combination  of 

1  Knyghton,  c.  23G8. 

2  Brompton,  c.  <»7G ;  M.  Paris,  21  ;    Vit.  Alb.  .'5. 

3  Ann.  Burt.  A.IJ.  1211. 


44  FOUNDATION  OF   WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 

things  sacred  and  things  common  —  a  union  of  the 
regal,  legal,  lay  element  of  the  nation  with  its  religious, 
clerical,  ecclesiastical  tendencies,  such  as  can  be  found 
hardly  elsewhere  in  Christendom.  The  Abbey  is  secu- 
lar because  it  is  sacred,  and  sacred  because  it  is  secular. 
It  is  secular  in  the  common  English  sense,  because  it  is 
'  ssecular '  in  the  far  higher  French  and  Latin  sense :  a 
'  ssecular  '  edifice,  a  '  specular  '  institution  —  an  edifice 
and  an  institution  which  has  grown  with  the  growth  of 
ages,  which  has  been  furrowed  with  the  scars  and  cares 
of  each  succeeding  century. 

A  million  wrinkles  carve  its  skin  ; 

A  thousand  winters  snow'd  upon  its  breast, 

From  cheek,  and  throat,  and  chin. 

The  vast  political  pageants  of  which  it  has  been  the 
theatre,  the  dust  of  the  most  worldly  laid  side  by  side 
with  the  dust  of  the  most  saintly,  the  wrangles  of 
divines  or  statesmen  which  have  disturbed  its  sacred 
peace,  the  clash  of  arms  which  has  pursued  fugitive 
warriors  and  princes  into  the  shades  of  its  sanctuary  — 
even  the  traces  of  Westminster  boys,  who  have  played 
in  its  cloisters  and  inscribed  their  names  on  its  walls 
—  belong  to  the  story  of  the  Abbey  no  less  than  its 
venerable  beauty,  its  solemn  services,  and  its  lofty  as- 
pirations. Go  elsewhere  for  your  smooth  polished 
buildings,  your  purely  ecclesiastical  places  of  worship : 
go  to  the  creations  of  yesterday  —  the  modern  basilica, 
the  restored  church,  the  nonconformist  tabernacle.  But 
it  is  this  union  of  secular  with  ecclesiastical  grandeur 
in  Westminster  Abbey  which  constitutes  its  special 
delight.  It  is  this  union  which  has  made  the  Abbey 
the  seat  of  the  imperial  throne,  the  sepulchre  of  kings 
and  kinglike  men,  the  h^uie  of  the  English  nation, 


EDWARD   THE   CONFESSOR. 


45 


where  for  the  moment  all  Englishmen  may  forget  their 
differences,  and  feel  as  one  family  gathered  round  the 
same  Christmas  hearth,  finding  underneath  its  roof, 
each,  of  whatever  church  or  sect  or  party,  echoes  of 
some  memories  dear  to  himself  alone  —  some  dear  to 
all  alike  —  all  blending  with  a  manifold  yet  harmonious 
'  voice  from  Heaven,'  which  is  as  '  the  voice  of  many 
waters  '  of  ages  past. 

To  draw  out  those  memories  will  be  the  object  of  the 
following  Chapters. 


['HE  ABBEY,  FKOM  THE  BAYEUX  TAPESTRY. 


THE   CORONATIONS. 

THE  Queen  sitting  in  King1  Edward's  Chair,  the  Archbishop, 
assisted  with  the  same  Archbishops  and  Bishops  as  before,  comes 
from  the  Altar:  the  Dean  of  Westminster  brings  the  Crown,  and 
the  Archbishop,  taking  it  of  him,  reverently  putteth  it  upon  the 
Queen's  head.  At  the  sight  whereof  the  people,  with  loud  and 
repeated  shouts,  cry  '  God  save  the  Queen !  '  and  the  trumpets 
sound,  and,  by  a  signal  given,  the  great  guns  at  the  Tower  are 
shot  off.  As  soon  as  the  Queen  is  crowned,  the  Peers  put  on 
their  coronets  and  caps.  The  acclamation  ceasing,  the  Arch- 
bishop goeth  on  and  saith  :  '  Be  strong  and  of  a  good  courage. 
Observe  the  commandments  of  God,  and  walk  in  his  Holy  ways. 
Fight  the  good  fight  of  faith,  and  lay  hold  on  eternal  life  :  that 
in  this  world  you  may  be  crowned  with  success  and  honour,  and, 
when  you  have  finished  your  course,  receive  a  crown  of  right- 
eousness, which  God  the  righteous  Judge  shall  give  you  in  that 
day.'  —  (Rubric  of  Coronation  Service,  p.  40.) 

:  '  St.  Edward's  Chair  '  (in  Charles  II. 's  Coronation)  ;  '  King 
Edward's  Chair'  (in  James  II.'s  Coronation,  and  afterwards). 


SPECIAL   AUTHORITIES. 

THE  special  authorities  for  each  Coronation  are  contained  in  the 
various  Chronicles  of  each  reign.  On  the  general  ceremonial 
the  chief  works  are  — 

1.  Maskell's  Monumenta  Ritualia  Ecclesice  Anglicancc,  vol.  iii. 

2.  Selden's  Titles  of  Honour. 

3.  Martene's  De  Antiquis  Ecclesifc  Ritibus. 

4.  The  Liber  Reyalis  of  Richard  II.,  in  the  custody  of  the  Dean 
of  Westminster. 

5.  Ogilvy's  Coronation  of  Charles  11. 
G.  Sandford's  Corona/ion  of  James  If. 

7.  Taylor's  Glory  of  Regality  (published  for  the  Coronation  of 
George  IV.). 

8.  Chapters  on  Coronations  (published  for  the  Coronation  of 
Queen  Victoria). 

9.  The  Coronation  services  from  Edward  VI.  to  the  present 

time,  preserved  in  the  Lambeth  Library. 
10.  MS.  Records  in  the  Heralds'  College. 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE     CORONATIONS. 

'"PHE  Church  of  the  Confessor  was,  as  we  have  seen, 
-A.  the  precursor  of  the  Conquest.  The  first  event  in 
the  Abbey  of  which  there  is  any  certain  record,  The  Oorona. 
after  the  burial  of  the  Confessor,  is  one  which,  wmiam  the 
like  the  Conquest,  arose  immediately  out  of  Coniiucror- 
that  burial,  and  has  affected  its  fortunes  ever  since.  It 
was  the  Coronation  of  William  the  Conqueror. 

No  other  coronation-rite  in  Europe  reaches  back  to 
so  early  a  period  as  that  of  the  sovereigns  of  Britain. 
The  inauguration  of  Aidan  by  Columba  is  the  The,.iteof 
oldest  in  Christendom.1  From  the  Anglo-  c»ro»atiu»- 
Saxon  order  of  the  Coronation  of  Egbert 2  was  derived  the 
ancient  form  of  the  coronations  of  the  Kings  of  France. 
Even  the  promise  not  '  to  desert  the  throne  of  the 
Saxons,  Mercians,  and  Northumbrians  '  was  left  un- 
altered in  the  inauguration  of  the  Capetian  Kings  at 
Reims.3  But,  in  order  to  appreciate  the  historic  impor- 
tance of  the  English  coronations,  \ve  must  for  a  moment 
consider  the  original  idea  of  the  whole  institution. 
Only  in  two  countries  does  the  rite  of  coronation  retain 

1  A.  i>  571.  (Marfono,  DC  Antii/uis  Ecclesiw.  Ritilms,  ii.  21.3.)  It  was 
performed  by  a  benediction  and  imposition  of  hands — at  the  command, 
it  was  said,  and  under  the  lash  of  an  an^ol,  who  appeared  in  a  vision  to 
Columba.  (Heeves'  Adumnan,  197-1'.)!).) 

a  Maskell's  Monument  (i  Ritiuilta,  iii.  p.  Ixxvii.  The  form  of  the 
Coronation  of  Kthdred  II.  is  <rivcn  in  Turner's  An<ilo-Snxons,  ii.  172. 

3  See  Sclden's  Titles  of  Honour,  pp.  177,  189;  Maskell,  iii.  p.  xiv. 
VOL.  i.  — 4 


50  THE   CORONATIONS. 

its  full  primitive  savour.  In  Hungary,  the  Crown  of 
St.  Stephen  still  invests  the  sovereign  with  a  national 
position  ;  and  in  Russia,  the  coronation  of  the  Czars  in 
the  Kremlin  at  Moscow  is  an  event  rather  than  a  cere- 
mony. But  this  sentiment  once  pervaded  the  whole  of 
medieval  Christendom,  of  which  the  history  was,  in 
fact,  inaugurated  through  the  coronation  of  Charle- 
magne by  Pope  Leo  III.,  in  the  year  800.  The  rite 
represented  the  two  opposite  aspects  of  European  mon- 
archy. On  the  one  hand,  it  was  a  continuation  of  the 
its  elective  °^  German  usage  of  popular  election,  and  of 
character.  ^ie  piec}ge  given  by  the  sovereign  to  preserve 
the  rights  of  his  people  —  in  part,  perhaps,  of  the  elec- 
tion of  the  Eoman  Emperors  by  the  Imperial  Guard.1 
Of  this  aspect  two  traces  still  remain :  the  recognition 
of  the  sovereign  at  the  demand  of  the  Archbishop,  and 
the  Coronation  oath  imposed  as  a  guarantee  of  the  pop- 
its  snored  u^ar  an(^  legal  rights  of  the  subjects.  On  the 
chapter.  other  hand,  partly  as  a  means  of  resisting  the 
claims  of  the  electors,  it  was  a  solemn  consecration  by 
the  hands  of  an  abbot  2  or  a  bishop.  The  unction  with 
the  gift  of  a  crown,  suggested  doubtless  by  the  ceremo- 
nies observed  in  the  case  of  some  of  the  Jewish  kings, 3 
was  unknown  in  the  older  Empire.  It  first  began* 

1  The  Earls  Palatine  in  England  wore  the  sword  to  show  that  they 
had  authority  to  correct  the  King.  (Holinshed,  A.D.  1236.) 

'2  The  benediction  of  the  Abbot  rather  than  the  Bishop  prevailed 
in  the  Celtic  tribes  both  of  Ireland  and  Scotland.  (See  Keeves'  Adam- 
nan,  199.) 

3  See  Lectures  on  the  History  of  the  Jewish   Church,  ii.  18,  48,  331, 
397. 

4  Charlemagne  is  described  as  having  been  anointed  from  bead  to 
foot.     (Martene,  ii.  204.)     In  like  manner,  in  English  history,  on  more 
than  one  occasion  the  King  is  described  as  having  been  stripped  from 
the  waist  upwards,  in  the  presence  of  the  whole  congregation,  in  order 
that  the  sacred  oil  might  flow  frev  1  y  over  his  person.     (Hoveden,  A.  D. 


THEIR   SACRED   CHARACTER.  51 

with  Charlemagne.1  The  sacred  oil  was  believed  to 
convey  to  the  sovereign  a  spiritual  jurisdiction2  and 
inalienable  sanctity : 

Not  all  the  water  in  the  rough  rude  sea 
Can  wash  the  balm  from  an  anointed  king. 

A  white  coif  was  left  on  his  head  seven  days,  to  allow 
the  oil  to  settle  into  its  place,  and  was  then  solemnly 
taken  off.3  This  unction  was  believed  to  be  the  foun- 
dation of  the  title,  reaching  back  to  the  days  of  King 
Ina,  of  '  Dei  Gratia.' 4  By  its  virtue  every  consecrated 
king  was  admitted  a  canon  of  some  cathedral  church.5 
They  were  clothed  for  the  moment  in  the  garb  of 
bishops.'3  The  '  Veni  Creator  Spiritus  '  was  sung  over 
them  as  over  bishops.  At  first  rive  sovereigns  alone 
received  the  full  consecration  —  the  Emperor,7  and  the 
Kings  of  France,  England,  Jerusalem,  and  Sicily.  And, 
though  this  sacred  circle  was  constantly  enlarged  by 
the  ambition  of  the  lesser  princes,  and  at  last  included 
almost  all,  the  older  sovereigns  long  retained  a  kind  of 
peculiar  dignity.8 

A  King,  therefore,  without  a  coronation  was  regarded 

1189.  Roger  of  Wendover,  ibid.;  Grafton,  Cent,  of  Hanlynrj,  p.  517; 
Maskell,  iii.  p.  xv.) 

1  Selden's  Titles  of  Honour,  p.  237. 

2  33  Edward  HI.  §  103.  3  Maskell,  iii.  p.  xxi. 
4  Ibid.  ]).  xiii.  &  Ibid.  p.  xvi. 

6  Taylor,  p.  81.  '  .  .  .  .  Lyke  as  a  Bysshop  sliuld  say  masse,  \viili 
a  dalmatyk  and  a  stole  about  his  neeke.  And  also  as  liosyn  and  shone 
and  eopys  and  gloves  Ivke  a  byssbop.  .  .  .'  (Maskell,  iii.  p.  liii  , 
speaking  of  Henry  VI. 's  coronation.)  "  Taylor,  p.  37. 

8  What  marks  the  more  than  ceremonial  character  of  the  act  is  the 
distinction  drawn  between  the  coronation  of  the  actual  sovereigns  and 
their  consorts.  The  Queen*  of  France  were  crowned,  not  at  Keiins,  but 
at  St.  Denys  (Taylor,  p.  50).  Of  the  Queens  Consort  of  England,  out 
of  seventeen  sin«.e  the  time  of  Henry  VIII.,  only  six  have  been  crowned 
(Argument  of  the  Attorney-General  before  the  Privy  Council,  July  7, 
1821,  in  the  case  of  Queen  Caroline).  The  Anglo-Saxon  Queens  were 


52  THE   CORONATIONS   OP 

almost  as,  by  strict  ecclesiologists,  a  bishop-elect  would 
be  regarded  before  his  consecration,  or  a  nonconform- 
ist minister  without  episcopal  ordination.1  Hence  the 
political  importance  of  the  scenes  which  we  shall  have 
to  describe.  Hence  the  haste  (the  indecent  haste,  as 
it  seems  to  modern  feeling)  with  which  the  new  king 
seized  the  crown,  sometimes  before  the  dead  king  was 
buried.  Hence  the  appointment  of  the  high  state  officer, 
who  acted  as  viceroy  between  the  demise  of  one  sover- 
eign and  the  inauguration  of  another,  and  whose  duty 
it  was,  as  it  still  is  in  form,  to  preside  at  the  coronations 
—  the  Lord  High  Steward,  the  '  Stead  ward,'  or '  Ward  of 
the  King's  Stead  or  Place.'  Hence  the  care  with  which 
the  chroniclers  note  the  good  or  evil  omen  of  the  exact 
day  on  which  the  coronation  took  place.  Hence  the 
sharp  contests  which  raged  between  the  ecclesiastics 
who  claimed  the  right  of  sharing  in  the  ceremony. 
Hence,  lastly,  the  dignity  of  the  place  where  the  act 
was  performed. 

The  traditionary  spot  of  the  first  coronation  of  a 
British  sovereign  is  worthy  of  the  romantic  legend 
The  scene  of  which  enshrines  his  name.  Arthur  was 
coronations,  crowned  at  Stonelienge,2  which  had  been 
transported  by  Merlin  for  the  purpose  to  Salisbury 
Plain  from  Naas  in  Leinster.  Of  the  Saxon  Kings, 
seven,  from  Edward  the  Elder  to  Ethelred  (A.  D.  900- 
971),  were  crowned  on  the  King's  Stone3  by  the  first 

deprived  of  the  right  in  the  ninth  century,  by  the  crimes  of  Eadburga, 
but  Judith,  Queen  of  Ethel  will  f,  regained  it.  (Maskell,  iii.  p.  xxiv.) 

1  Many  Bretons  maintained  that  Louis  Philippe,  not  having  been 
crowned,  had  no  more  right  to  exercise  the  right  of  royalty  than  a 
priest  not  ordained  could  exercise  the  sacerdotal  functions.     (Reiiau, 
Questions  Contemporaines,  434.) 

2  Rishanger,  Annals,  p.  425  ;  Girafdus  Cainbrensis,  Dist.  ii.  18. 

3  Still  to  be  seen  in  the  market-place  of  Kingston-on-Thames. 


THE    SAXON   KINGS.  58 

ford  of  the  Thames.  The  Danish  Hardicanute  was 
believed  to  have  been  crowned  at  Oxford.  But  the 
selection  of  a  church  as  the  usual  scene  of  the  rite 
naturally  followed  from  its  religious  character.  A 
throng  of  bishops  always  attended.  The  celebration  of 
the  Communion  always  formed  part  of  it.1  The  day,  if 
possible,  was  Sunday,  or  some  high  festival2  The 
general  seat  of  the  Saxon  coronations,  accordingly,  was 

O  O     i/    ' 

the  sanctuary  of  the  House  of  Cerdic — the  cathedral 
of  Winchester.  When  they  were  crowned  in  London  it 
was  at  St.  Paul's.  There  at  least  was  the  coronation  of 
Canute.  It  is  doubtful  whether  Harold  was  crowned 
at  St.  Paul's 3  or  Westminster.4  From  the  urgent 
necessity  of  the  crisis,  the  ceremony  took  place  on  the 
same  day  as  the  Confessor's  funeral.  All  was  haste 
and  confusion.  Stigand,  the  last  Saxon  primate,  was 
present.5  But  it  would  seem  that  Harold  placed  the 
crown  on  his  own  head.6 

1.  The  coronation  of  Duke  William  in  the  Abbey  is, 
however,  undoubted.     Whether  the  right  of  the  Abbey 
to  the   coronation   of  the   sovereigns   entered  C(11.(m.lti(m 
into  the  Confessor's   designs  depends  on  the  t^Jcou-"1 
genuineness  of  his  Charters.     But,  in  any  case,  'ilR'""'- 
William's  selection  of  this  spot  for  the  most  important 

1  Maskell,  iii.  p  xxxix. — The  breaking  of  the  fast,  immediately 
after  the  Communion,  was  in  the  retiring-place  by  St.  Edward's  Shrine 
in  the  Abbey.  (Ibid.  p.  hi.) 

-  Lilx-r  llei/alis  ;  Maskell.  iii.  p  Ixiv.  'A  Peace  of  God '  succeeded 
for  eight  days.  (Ibid.  p.  Ixvi.) 

a  Brompton,  c.  '.(58;  Uishaiiger's  Annuls,  p.  427.  William  of 
Malmcsbury  (/Je  (,'ist.  Pont.  ii.  1)  implies  that  the  Conqueror's  corona- 
tion was  the  first  that  took  place  in  the  Abbey. 

4  Kelntioili*.  Ori'ifine  Will.  Con//,  p.  4.  ((iiles,  SYn'/tf.  I\<r.  (!i>at.  Will. 
Conq.  1845.)  5  Bnveux  Tapestry. 

6  Brompton,  c.  958;  Kishanger's  Annals,  p.  427;  Matthew  of  West- 
minster, p.  221. 


54  THE   CORONATIONS  OF 

act  of  his  life  sprang  directly  from  regard  to  the  Con- 
fessor's memory.  To  be  crowned  beside  the  grave  of 
the  last  hereditary  Saxon  king,  was  the  direct  fulfil- 
ment of  the  whole  plan  of  the  Conqueror,  or  '  Con- 
questor;'  that  is,  the  inheritor,1  not  by  victory  but  by 
right,  ot  the  throne  of  '  his  predecessor  King  Edward.'  2 
The  time  was  to  be  Christinas  Day3  —  doubtless  be- 
cause ou  that  high  festival, as  on  the  other  two  of  Easter 
Moini:iy,  and  Whitsuntide,  the  Anglo-Saxon  kings  had 

!><•(•.  -jr., 

moo.  appeared  in  state,  re-enacting,  as  it  were,  their 

original  coronations. 

'  Two  nat  ons  were  indeed  in  the  womb'  of  the  Ab- 
bey on  that  day.  Within  the  massive  freshly-erected 
walls  was  the  Saxon  populace  of  London,  intermixed 
with  the  retainers  of  the  Norman  camp  and  court. 
Outside  sate  the  Xorman  soldiers  on  their  war-horses, 
eagerly  watching  for  any  disturbance  in  the  interior. 
The  royal  workmen  had  been  sent  into  London  a  few 
days  before,  to  construct  the  mighty  fortress  of  the 
Tower,  which  henceforth  was  to  overawe  the  city.4 
Before  the  high  altar,  standing  on  the  very  gravestone 
of  Edward,  was  the  fierce,  huge,  unwieldy  William,  the 
exact  contrast  of  the  sensitive  transparent  King  who 
lay  beneath  his  feet.  On  either  side  stood  an  Anglo- 
Saxon  and  a  Norman  prelate.  The  Norman  was  God- 
frey, Bishop  of  Coutances ;  the  Saxon  was  Aldred, 
Archbishop  of  York,  holding  in  his  own  hand  the  golden 
crown,  of  Byzantine  workmanship,  wrought  by  Guy  of 
Amiens.  Stigand  of  Canterbury,  the  natural  depositary 

1  The  Bayenx  Tapestry  is  devoted  to  the  proof  of  this  right. 

2  Charter  of  Battle  Ahl>ey. 

3  Midwinter  Day.     (Kaine's  Archhix/iops  of  York,  i.   144.)     It  was 
also  the  day  of  Charlemagne's  coronation. 

4  William  of  Poitiers,  A.D.  1066. 


THE  NORMAN  KINGS.  55 

of  the  rite  of  Coronation,  had  fled  to  Scotland.  Aldred, 
with  that  worldly  prudence  which  characterised  his 
career,  was  there,  making  the  most  of  the  new  oppor- 
tunity, and  thus  established  over  William  an  influence 
which  no  other  ecclesiastic  of  the  time,  not  even  Hilde- 
hrand,  was  able  to  gain.1  The  moment  arrived  for  the 
ancient  form  of  popular  election.  The  Norman  prelate 
was  to  address  in  French  those  who  could  not  speak 
English ;  the  Saxon  primate  was  to  address  in  English 
those  who  could  not  speak  Erench.  A  confused  accla- 
mation arose  from  the  mixed  multitude.  The  Norman 
cavalry  without,  hearing  but  not  understanding  this 
peculiarity  of  the  Saxon  institution,  took  alarm,  and 
set  fire  to  the  gates  of  the  Abbey,  and  perhaps  the 
thatched  dwellings  which  surrounded  it.2  The  crowd 
—  nobles  and  poor,  men  and  women  —  alarmed  in 
their  turn,  rushed  out.  The  prelates  and  monks  were 
left  alone  with  William  in  the  church,  and  in  the  soli- 
tude of  that  wintry  day,  amidst  the  cries  of  his  new 
subjects,  trampled  down  by  the  horses'  hoofs  of  their 
conquerors,  he  himself,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life, 
trembling  from  head  to  foot,  the  remainder  of  the  cere- 
mony was  hurried  on.  Aldred,  in  the  name  of  the 
Saxons,  exacted  from  him  the  oath  to  protect  them  be- 
fore he  would  put  the  crown  on  his  head.3  Thus  ended 

1  See  Chapter  I. —  An  instance  of  this  occurred  in  the  Abbey  a  few 
years  later.     Aldred  came  up  to  London  to  remonstrate  with  William 
for  a  plundering  expedition  in  Yorkshire      lie  found  the  Kiujr  in  the 
Abbey,  and  attacked  him  publicly.    The  King  fell  at  his  feet,  trenililin«r. 
The  officers  of  the  court  tried  to  push  the  Archbishop  away,  but  he  per- 
sisted, and  would  not  leave  the  place  without  a  full  apology.     (Stubhs, 
c.  17().'!-4;   Hroiupton,  c.  002.)     See  also,  fora  different  account,  Wil- 
liam of  Malmcsbury.  l><   (•'<*>    1'ont .  p.  271. 

2  Oftl.   \'ii.  A.I>.  K)i;:>;  William  of  Malmcsbury,  p.  184;  Palgrave's 
Normandy,  iii   .'570. 

3  Saxon  Chronicle  (A   n.  1066.) 


56  THE   CORONATIONS  OF 

the  fi:-st  undoubted  Westminster  coronation.  William 
kept  up  the  remembrance  of  it,  according  to  the  Saxon 
custom,  by  a  yearly  solemn  appearance,  with  the  crown 
on  his  head,  at  the  chief  festivals.  But,  perhaps  from  the 
recollection  of  this  disastrous  beginning,  the  Christmas 
coronation  was  not  at  Westminster,  but  at  Worcester  ; 
Easter  was  still  celebrated  at  the  old  Saxon  capital  of 
Winchester  ;  and  Whitsuntide  only  was  observed  in 
London,  but  whether  at  St.  Paul's  or  the  Abbey  is  not 
stated.1 

From  this  time  forward  the  ceremony  of  the  corona- 
tion has  been  inalienably  attached  to  the  Abbey.  Its 
The  con-  connection  with  the  grave  of  the  Confessor  was 
thfcorona-  l°ng  preserved,  even  in  its  minutest  forms. 
the'lbbey  The  regalia  were  strictly  Anglo-Saxon,  by  their 
The  Regaii.i,  traditional  names  :  the  crown  of  Alfred  or  of 


as.oune,:ted  gfc 

Confessor.       wife    Qf     ^    ConfessOT)     for     the     Queen.        The 

sceptre  with  the  dove  was  the  reminiscence  of  Edward's 
peaceful  days  after  the  expulsion  of  the  Danes.  The 
gloves  were  a  perpetual  reminder  of  his  abolition  of  the 
Danegelt  —  a  token  that  the  King's  hands  should  be 

o  o 

moderate  in  taking  taxes.3  The  ring  with  which  as  the 
Doge  to  the  Adriatic,  so  the  king  to  his  people  was 
wedded,  was  the  ring  of  the  pilgrim.4  The  Coronation 
robe  of  Edward  was  solemnly  exhibited  in  the  Abbey 
twice  a  year,  at  Christmas  and  on  the  festival  of  its 
patron  saints,5  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul.  The  'great 
stone  chalice,'  which  was  borne  by  the  Chancellor  to 

1  Rudbourne  (Anglt'a  Sacra,  i.  259). 

2  Spelman's  History  of  Alf.'cd.     (1'lnnchc's  Jietjal  Records,  p.  G4.) 
s  The  'orb'  appears  in  the  Bayeux  Tapestry. 

4  Planche,   p.    85;    Mill's    Catato'/ue  of  Honours,   p.   86;    Fuller,  ii 
§§  16,  26. 

6  Ware's  Consuetudines. 


THE   NORMAN   KINGS.  57 

the  altar,  and  out  of  which  the  Abbot  of  Westminster 
administered  the  sacramental  wine,  \vas  believed  to  have 
been  prized  at  a  high  sum  '  in  Saint  Edward's  days.' l 
If  after  the  anointing  the  King's  hair  was  not  smooth, 
there  was  '  King  Edward's  ivory  comb  for  that  end.'  2 
The  form  of  the  oath,  retained  till  the  time  of  James  II., 
was  to  observe  '  the  laws  of  the  glorious  Confessor.'  3 
A  copy  of  the  Gospels,  purporting  to  have  belonged  to 
Athelstane,  was  the  book  which  was  handed  down  as 
that  on  which,  for  centuries,  the  coronation-oath  had 
been  taken.4  On  the  arras  hung  round  the  choir,  at 
least  from  the  thirteenth  century,  was  the  representa- 
tion of  the  ceremony,5  with  words  which  remind  us  of 
the  analogous  inscription  in  St.  John  Late  ran,  expressive 
of  the  peculiar  privileges  of  the  place  — 

I  fane  regura  sedem,  ubi  Petrus  consecrat  a?clcm, 
Quam  tti,  Papa,  regis  ;  6  inungit  et  unctio  regis. 

The  Church  of  Westminster  was  called,  in  consequence, 
'  the  head,  crown,  and  diadem  of  the  kingdom.' " 

The  Regalia  were  kept  in  the  Treasury  of  Westmin- 
ster entirely  till  the  time  of  Henry  VIII.,  and  the 
larger  part  till  the  time  of  the  Commonwealth,  when 
(in  1G42)  they  were  broken  to  pieces.8  But  the  new 
Regalia,  after  the  Restoration,  were  still  called  by 
the  same  names;  and,  though  permanently  kept  in  the 
Tower,  are  still,  by  a  shadowy  connection  with  the 
past,  placed  under  the  custody  of  the  Dean  before  each 
coronation. 

1  Maskcll,  iii.  p.  Ixx.  -  State  Tapers,  TYh.  2,  lf>25-iO. 

3  Taylor,  85.  •»    Gent.  MUIJ.  18:58,  p.  471. 

5   Weever,  p.  45. 

0  Alluding  to  its  exemption  from  the  jurisdiction  of  tlie  see  of  Lon 
•Jon.  See  Chapter  V. 

7  I. HUT  /ii-tiiilis  :   Maskcll.  iii.  p.  xl\  ii. 

8  Taylor,  p.  'J4  ;  see  Chapters  V.  and  VI. 


58  THE  CORONATIONS  OF 

The  Abbot  of  "Westminster  was  the  authorised  in- 
structor to  prepare  each  new  King  for  the  solemnities 
The  coro-  °^  the  coronation  as  if  for  confirmation  ;  visit- 


two  days  Before,  to  inform  him  of  the 
Abbots  and  observances,  and  to  warn  him  to  shrive  and 
weTtmul-  cleanse  his  conscience  before  the  holy  anoint- 
ing.1 If  he  was  ill,  the  Prior  (as  now  the 
Subdean)  took  his  place.2  He  also  was  charged  with 
the  singular  office  of  administering  the  chalice  to  the 
King  and  Queen,  as  a  sign  of  their  conjugal  unity,  after 
their  reception  of  the  sacrament  from  the  Archbishop.3 
The  Convent  on  that  day  was  to  be  provided,  at  the 
royal  expense,  with  '  100  simnals  (that  is,  cakes)  of  the 
best  bread,  a  gallon  of  wine,  and  as  many  fish  as  be- 
come the  royal  dignity.' 

These  privileges  have,  so  far  as  altered  times  allow, 
descended  to  the  Protestant  Deans.  The  Dean  and 
Canons  of  Westminster,  alone  of  the  clergy  of  England, 
stand  by  the  side  of  the  Prelates.  On  them,  and  not  on 
the  Bishops,  devolves  the  duty,  if  such  there  be,  of  con- 
secrating the  sacred  oil.4  The  Dean  has  still  the  charge 
of  the  '  Liber  ficgalis,'  containing  the  ancient  Order  of 
the  Service.  It  is  still  his  duty  to  direct  the  sovereign  in 
the  details  of  the  Service.  Even  the  assent  of  the  people 
of  England  to  the  election  of  the  sovereign  has  found  its 
voice,  in  modern  days,  through  the  shouts  of  the  Westmin- 
ster scholars,  from  their  recognised  seats  in  the  Abbey.5 

1  Taylor,  p.  134  ;  Liber  Regalis  ;  Ma.skell,  p.  Ixvi. 

2  Liber  Ruialis.  3  Ibid.  ;   Maskell,  iii.  p.  xlv. 

4  Maskell,  iii.  p.  xxii.     Sec  Sand  ford's  account  of  the  Coronation  of 
James  II.  p.  91.     In  Charles  I.'s  time  the  King's  physicians  prepared 
it  ;  and  Laud  (who  was  at  that  time  Bishop  of  St  David's  as  well  as 
Prebendary  of  Westminster)  '  hollowed  '  it  on  the  high  altar.     (State 
Papers,  Feb.  2,  1G25-6.) 

5  Sauford's  James  If.,  p.  83  ;  Maskell,  iii.  pp.  xlvii.,  xlviii. 


THE   NORMAN   KINGS.  59 

If  by  the  circumstances  of  the  Conqueror's  accession 
the  Abbey  was  selected  as  the  perpetual  place  of  the 
coronations,  so  by  the  same  circumstances  it  became 
subject  to  the  one  intrusion  into  its  peculiar  privileges. 
It  was  now  that  the  ecclesiastical  minister  of  the  coro- 
nation was  permanently  fixed.  Neither  the  Abbot  of 
Westminster  nor  (as  might  have  been  expected  from 
his  share  in  the  first  coronation)  the  Archbishop  of 
York  could  maintain  his  ground  against  the  over- 
whelming influence  of  the  first  Norman  pri-  T))e  ri(rht 
mate.  Lanfranc  pointed  out  to  William,  that  $$££?£' 
if  the  Archbishops  of  York  were  allowed  to  Canterbury 
confer  the  crown,  they  might  be  tempted  to  give  it  to 
some  Scot  or  Dane,  elected  by  the  rebel  Saxons  of  the 
north ; 1  and  that  to  avoid  this  danger,  they  should  be 
forever  excluded  from  the  privilege  which  belonged  to 
Canterbury  only.  In  the  absence  of  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury,  the  privilege  was  to  belong,  not  to  York, 

\1  *  JT  o  O ' 

but  to  London.2  From  that  time,  accordingly,  with 
three  exceptions,  the  Primate  of  Canterbury  has  been 
always  the  chief  ecclesiastic  at  the  coronations.3  On 
that  occasion,  only,  these  prelates  take  their  places,  as 
by  right,  in  the  Choir  of  the  Abbey ;  and  the  Arch- 
bishop of  York  has  been  obliged  to  remain  content 

1  Eadmcr,  c.  .3;  Lanfranc,  300,  378;  Stubbs,  c.  170G  (Thierry,  ii. 
115)  ;  Hugh  Soteyagine  (Raine,  i.  147). 

-  Kudbourne  (Ani/lia  Sacra,  i.  248). 

3  But  by  1  W.  and  M.  c.  fi,  it  is  now  enacted  'that  the  coronation 
may  be  performed  by  the  Archbishop  of  Oanterhurv  or  the  Arch- 
bishop of  York,  or  either  of  them,  or  any  oilier  bishop  whom  the 
King's  Majesty  shall  appoint.'  The  claim  of  the  Archbishop  of  Can- 
terbury to  marry  royal  personages  rests  on  the  theory  that  the  Kings 
and  Queens  are  always  fKirisliiinitrn  of  the  see  of  Canterbury  :  hence 
the  protest  of  the  nobles  against  the  claim  of  the  Bishop  of  Salisbury 
to  marry  Henry  I.,  on  the  ground  that  the  castle  of  Windsor  was  iu 
the  diocese  of  Salisbury.  (Maskell,  iii.  p.  Ixii.) 


60  THE   CORONATIONS   OF 

with  the  inferior  and  accidental  office  of  crowning  the 
coronation     Queen-Consort,  which  had  Leen  performed  Ly 

of  Matilda,         »iiii>/-\  •»»-       -i  i 

wiiitsun-       Aklred  tor  Queen  Matilda  two  years  alter  the 

day.  May  , 

11,  low.        Conquerors  coronation.1 

2.  The  arrangement  of  Lanfranc  immediately  came 
into    operation.     William    Rufus  —  \vhose    fancy    for 
coronation     Westminster   manifested   itself  in    the   mag- 
Ram's!"11"     Tiificent  Hall,  which  was  to  be  but  as  a  bed- 
septemi>er     chamber  to  the  '  New  Palace '  meditated  by 

him  in  the  future 2  —  naturally  followed  the 
precedent  of  his  father's  coronation  in  the  Abbey ;  and 
as  the  Norman  Godfrey  and  the  Saxon  Aldred  had  lent 
their  joint  sanction  to  the  Conqueror's  coronation,  so 
his  own  wTas  inaugurated  by  the  presence  of  the  first 
Norman  primate,  with  the  one  remaining  Saxon  bishop 
Wulfstan.3 

3.  The  coronation  of  Henry  I.  illustrates  the  impor- 
coronation    tance  attached  to  the  act.     He  lost  not  a  mo- 

of  Henry  I.      ment        Wit]lin  four  days  Qf  llig  brother's  tleath 

in    the   New  Forest,  he  was  in   Westminster   Abbey, 
AU-  5,         claiming  the  election  of  the  nobles  and  the 

1100.  ° 

Eleventh       consecration  of  the  prelates.4     '  At  that  time 

Sunday  af-  _     _ 

ter  Trinity,     the    present  providing    of    good    swords    was 

Feast  of  St. 

oswaia. 5       accounted  more  essential  to  a  king's  coronation 
than  the  long  preparing  of  gay  clothes.     Such  prepara- 

1  Raine,  i.  144;  Saxon  Chronicle,  A.D.  1067. 

2  Laiiie   (Archices  de  la  Noblesse  de    France,  v.  57)  says    Turlogh 
O'Brian,  King  of  Ireland,  presented  William  Rufus  with  Irish  oak  for 
the  roof  of  the  Abbev  of  Westminster.     But  this  is  probably  a  confu- 
sion for  the  Palace  of  Westminster.     (See  Mac  Geogham's  Histoire 
d' Irlande,  i.  426.)     The  oak  is  from  the  oak  woods  of  Shillela,  which 
stood  till  1760.     (Young's  Tract-Is  in  Ireland,  i.  125.) 

3  Rudbourne  (Ant/litt  Sacra,  i.  263). 

4  Saxon    Chronicle,   A.  D.    fl 00;    Florence  of    Worcester,   ii.  46; 
Malmesbury,  v. :  Brompton,  c.  997. 

5  Palgrave's  Normandy,  iv.  688. 


THE   NORMAN   KINGS.  61 

tory  pomp  as  was  used  in  after-ages  for  the  ceremony 
was  now  conceived  not  only  useless  but  dangerous, 
speed  being  safest  to  supply  the  vacancy  of  the  throne.' 1 
Anselm,  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  was  absent ; 
and  here,  therefore,  Lanfranc's  provision  was  adopted, 
and  Maurice,  Bishop  of  London,  acted  in  his  stead. 
Thomas,  Archbishop  of  York,  who  had  made  a  des- 
perate effort  to  recover  the  lost  privileges  of  his  see  at 
Anselrn's  consecration,  was  at  Kipon  when  the  tidings 
of  William's  death  reached  him.  He,  like  Henry,  but 
for  a  different  reason,  hurried  up  to  London.  But  Win- 
chester was  nearer  than  Uipon,  and  the  King  was 
already  crowned.2  The  disappointment  of  the  northern 
Primate  was  met  by  various  palliatives.  The  King  and 
the  prelates  pleaded  haste.  Some  of  the  chroniclers 
represent  that  he  joined  in  the  ceremony,  giving  the 
crown  after  Maurice  had  given  the  unction.3  But  in 
fact  the  privilege  was  gone. 

The  compact  between  Henry  and  the  electors  was 
more  marked  than  in  any  previous  Xorman  coronation. 
He  promised  everything,  except  the  one  thing  which 
he  declared  that  he  could  not  do,  namely,  to  give  up 
the  forests  of  game  which  he  had  received  from  bis 
father.4  A  yet  more  important  coronation  than  his 
own,  in  the  eyes  of  the  Saxon  population,  was  that  of 
his  wife  Matilda.  '  Never  since  the  Battle  of  Hastings 
had  there  been  such  a  joyous  day  as  when  Queen 
Maude,  the  descendant  of  Alfred,  was  crowned  in  the 

1  Fuller,  iii.  1,  §  41. 

2  Hugh  the  Cantor.      (Haine,  i.  lf>3.) 

3  Rudlioiirne  (Aiir/lia  »»<•/•«,  i.  27'-i)  ;   Diceto,  c.  408;    Chronicle  <>J 
I'etfrlm-OHf/h  (Giles),  p.  (>'J  ;  Walsingliam  ( II  ypodi^ina  Neustrijv,  p.  44'5). 
Haiiie,  Onli-n'rus  Vilnlis  (hook  x.  i.  1.W),  accounts  for  his  absence  by 
supposing  him  to  have  died  before. 

4  1'algrave's  Normandy,  i\.  7.;o. 


62  THE  CORONATIONS  OF 

Abbey  and  feasted  in  the  Great  Hall.' 1  The  ceremony 
was  performed,  according  to  some,2  by  Anselm ;  accord- 
coronation  ing  to  others,  by  Gerard,3  at  that  time  Bishop 

of  Maude. 

,st.  Martin's    of  Hereford,  but  on  the  very  eve  of  mount- 
Day,  Nov.  J  . 
10, 1100.        ing   the   throne   of   York.     Either   from   his 

timely  presence  at  the  coronation  of  Henry,  or  from 
a  confusion  with  this  coronation,  he  was  believed  to 
have  crowned  the  King  himself,  and  as  a  reward  for 
his  services  to  have  claimed  the  next  archbishopric. 
When  the  vacancy  occurred  at  the  end  of  tlie  year, 
Henry  tried,  it  was  said,  to  buy  him  off  by  offering  to 
make  the  income  of  Hereford  equal  to  that  of  the 
Primates,  and  its  rank  to  that  of  Durham.  But  Gerard 
held  the  King  to  his  word,  and  became  the  rival  — 
often  the  successful  rival  —  of  Anselm.4 

4.  Stephen,  in  securing  '  the  legalising  and  legalising 
virtue  of  the  crown,'  5  was,  from  the  necessities  of  his 
coronation  position,  hardly  less  precipitate  than  his  pred- 
st.Sste-'en'  ecessor.  Henry  I.  died,  of  his  supper  of  lam- 
&ecn26,Day'  preys,  on  December  1 ;  and  whilst  lie  still 
lay  unburied  in  France,  Stephen  —  with  the 
devotion  to  favorite  days  then  so  common  —  chose 
December  26,  the  feast  of  his  own  saint,  Stephen,  for 
the  day  of  the  ceremony.  The  prelates  approved  the 
act ;  the  Pope  went  out  of  his  way  to  sanction  it.6  But 
the  coronation  teemed  with  omens  of  the  misfortunes 
which  thickened  round  the  unhappy  King.  It  was 
observed  that  the  Archbishop,  whose  consent  was 

1  Palgrave's  Normandy,  iv.  719-722;  see  Chapter  III. 

2  Symeon  (<-.  226). 

3  Oi'deric.   I  it.  book  x. 

4  Raine,  i.  159,  160. 

5  I  owe  this  expression  to  a  striking  description  of  this  incident  in 
an  unpublished  letter  of  Professor  Vaughan. 

6  Thierry  ii.  393,  394. 


THE   NORMAN   KINGS.  63 

directly  in  defiance  of  his  oath  to  Maude,1  died  within 
the  year,  and  that  the  magnates  who  assisted  all  per- 
ished miserably.2  It  was  remarked  that  the  Host  given 
at  the  Communion  suddenly  disappeared,3  and  that  the 
customary  kiss  of  peace  was  forgotten.4 

5.  The  coronation  of  Henry  II.  was  the  first  peaceful 
inauguration  of  a  King  that  the  Abbey  had  witnessed. 
In  it  the  Saxon  population  saw  the  fulfilment  coronation 
of  the  Confessor's  prophecy,  and  the  Normans  De^.TJf11' 
rejoiced  in  the  termination  of  their  own  civil  l 
war.     Theobald  of  Canterbury  presided,  but  with  the 
assistance  of  the  Archbishop  of  Rouen  and  the  Arch- 
bishop of  York,  who  was  a  personal   friend  of  Theo- 
bald.5    It  was  a  momentary  union   of   the   two  rival 
sees,  soon  to  be  broken  by  blows,  and  curses,  and  blood, 
—  of  which  the  next  coronation  in  the  Abbey  was  the 
ill-fated  beginning. 

The  King  in  his  later  years,  determined  to  secure 
the  succession,  by  providing  that  his  eldest  son  Henry 
should  be  crowned  during   his   lifetime.     In  Alllinfllis 
his  own  case  the   ceremony  of  consecration  j,',1,1,"^'1'5'' 
had  been  repeated  several  times.6     The  coro-  u'° 
nation  took  place  in  the  Abbey,  during  the  height  of 
the  King's  quarrel  with  Becket.     Accordingly,  as  the 
Primate  of  Canterbury  was  necessarily  absent,  the  Pri- 
mate of  ^ork  took  his  place.     It  was  the  same  lioger 
of   Bishopsbridge    who    had    assisted   at   Henry's    <>\vn 
inauguration.     To  fortify  him   in  his  precarious   posi- 

1   (,'r-stii  Slr-phani,  p.  7.     See  the  whole  case  iu  Iluuk's  Archbishops, 
ii.  318. 

-  Ilmlhourne  (AnyUa  Sm-rn,  i.  284). 

3  Kny^hton,  c.  2384  :   Hn.mptnn,  r.  1023. 

4  (iorvas,  c.  1340;   lloveilen,  481. 
•'   Haino,  i.  234. 

P  Maskell,  iii.  j>j>.  xviii.,  xix. 


64  THE  CORONATIONS   OF 

tion,  the  Bishops  of  London,  Durham,  Salisbury,  and 
Rochester  were  also  present ; 1  and  the  young  Prince 
who  was  crowned  by  them  rose,  under  the  name  of 
Henry  III., 2  at  once  to  the  full  pride  of  an  actual 
sovereign.  When  his  father  appeared  behind  him  at 
the  coronation  banquet,  the  Prince  remarked,  '  The  son 
of  an  Earl  may  well  wait  on  the  son  of  a  King  ! '  His 
wife,  the  French  princess,  was  afterwards  crowned  with 
him  at  Winchester,  by  French  bishops.3 

Perhaps  no  event  —  certainly  no  coronation  —  in 
Westminster  Abbey  ever  led  to  more  disastrous  con- 
sequences. 'Ex  hac  consecration e,  potius  execratione, 
provenerunt,  detestandi  eventus.' 4  —  '  From  this  con- 
secration, say  rather  execration,'  followed  directly  the 
anathema  of  Becket  on  the  three  chief  prelates,  the 
invaders  of  the  inalienable  prerogative  of  the  see  of 
Canterbury,  and,  as  the  result  of  that  anathema,  the 
murder  of  Becket,  by  the  rude  avengers  of  the  rights 
of  the  see  of  York ;  indirectly,  the  strong  reaction  in 
favour  of  the  clerical  party  ;  and,  according  to  popular 
belief,  the  untimely  death  of  the  young  Prince  Henry 
himself,  the  tragical  quarrels  of  his  brothers,  and  the 
unhappy  end  of  his  father. 

C.  With  the  coronation  of  Richard  I.  we  have  the 

first  detailed  account  of  the  ceremonial,  as  continued  to 

be  celebrated :  the  procession  from  the  Palace 

Coronation 

of mohard  i.  to  the  Abbey  —  the  spurs,  the  swords,  the 
sceptre  —  the  Bishops  of  Durham  and  Bath  (then  first 
mentioned  in  this  capacity)  supporting  the  King  on  the 

1  Benedict,  A.  D.  1170. 

2  See  Memorials  of  Canterbury,  p.  63.     Richard  of  Devizes  (i.  §  1) 
calls  Richard  I.  brother  of  Henry  III. 

•'•  Taylor,  247. 

4  Annals  of  Margan,  p.  1G  (A.D.  1170).     Memorials  of  Canterbury, 


THE   PLANTAGENETS.  65 

right  and  left  —  the  oath  —  the  anointing,  for  which 
he  was  stripped  to  his  shirt  and  and  drawers l  —  the 
crown,  taken  by  the  King  himself  from  the  altar,  and 
given  to  the  Archbishop.  There  was  an  unusual  array 
of  magnates.  The  King's  mother  and  his  brother  John 
were  present,  and  the  primate  was  assisted  by  the  Arch- 
bishops of  Rouen,  Tours,  and  Dublin :  the  Archbishop 
of  York  was  absent.2 

The  day  was,  however,  marked  by  disasters  highly 
characteristic  of  the  age.  It  was  on  September  3,  a 
day  fraught  with  associations  fatal  to  the  S(  (t  3 
English  monarchy  in  a  later  age,  but  already  1189 
at  this  time  marked  by  astrologers  as  ill-omened,  or 
what  was  called  'an  Egyptian  day.'  3  Much  alarm  was 
caused  during  the  ceremony  by  the  appearance  of  a  bat, 
'  in  the  middle  and  bright  part  of  the  day,'  fluttering 
through  the  church,  '  inconveniently  circling  in  the 
same  tracks,  and  especially  round  the  King's  throne.' 
Another  evil  augury,  '  hardly  allowable  to  be  related 
even  in  a  whisper,'  was  the  peal  of  bells  at  the  last 
hour  of  the  day,  without  any  agreement  or  knowledge 
of  the  ministers  of  the  Abbey.4 

But  the  most  serious  portent  must  be  told  in  the 
dreadful  language  of  the  chronicler  himself:  'On  that, 
solemn  hour  in  which  the  Son  was  immolated 

Tlio  JP\V*. 

to  the  Father,  a  sacrifice  of  the  Jews  to  their 
father  the  devil  was  commenced  in  the  City  of  London  ; 
and  so  long  was  the  duration  of  the  famous  mystery, 
that  the  holocaust  could  hardly  be  accomplished  on  the 
ensuing  day.'  "     It  seems  that  on  previous  coronations 

1   Benedict,  A.  n.  1180.  -   Hoveden,  A.  n.  US!). 

:!  Iliid.     There  were  two  such   in  each  month,  supposed  to  be  pro- 
scribed hy  tho  Egyptians  as  unwholesome  foi  bleeding. 
4   Kichard  of  Devi/.es,  A.  i>.  118!).  5  Ibid. 

VOL.  i .  —  5 


66  THE   CORONATIONS   OF 

the  Jews  of  London  had  penetrated  into  the  Abbey  and 
Palace  to  witness  the  pageant.  The  King  and  the 
more  orthodox  nobles  were  apprehensive  that  they  came 
there  to  exercise  a  baleful  influence  by  their  enchant- 
ments. In  consequence,  a  royal  proclamation  the  day 
before  expressly  forbade  the  intrusion  of  Jews  or 
witches  into  the  royal  presence.  They  were  kept  out 
of  the  Abbey,  but  their  curiosity  to  see  the  banquet 
overcame  their  prudence.  Some  of  their  chief  men 
were  discovered.  The  nobles,  in  rage  or  terror,  flew 
upon  them,  stripped  off  their  clothes,  and  beat  them 
almost  to  death.  Two  curious  stories  were  circulated, 
one  by  the  Christians,  another  by  the  Jews.  It  was 
said  that  one  of  the  Jews,  Benedict l  of  York,  to  save 
his  life,  was  baptized  '  William,'  after  a  godfather  in- 
vited for  the  occasion,  the  Prior  of  St.  Mary's,  in  his 
native  city  of  York.  The  next  day  he  was  examined 
by  the  King  as  to  the  reality  of  his  conversion,  and 
had  the  courage  to  confess  that  it  was  by  mere  com- 
pulsion. The  King  turned  to  the  prelates  who  were 
standing  by,  and  asked  what  was  to  be  done  with  him. 
The  Archbishop,  '  less  discreetly  than  he  ought,'  re- 
plied, '  If  he  does  not  wish  to  be  a  man  of  God,  let  him 
remain  a  man  of  the  devil ' 2  The  Jewish  story  is  not 
less  characteristic.  The  King  in  the  banquet  had 
asked,  'What  is  this  noise  to-day?'  The  doorkeeper 
answered,  '  Nothing ;  only  the  boys  rejoica  and  are 
merry  at  heart.'  When  the  true  state  of  the  case  was 
known,  the  doorkeeper  was  dragged  to  death  at  the 
tails  of  horses.  '  Blessed  be  God,  who  giveth  vengeance ! 
Amen.' 3  But,  however  the  King's  own  temper  might 

1  Probably  '  Barueh.'  -  Benedict,  A.  D.  1189. 

3  The  Chronicles  of  Rabbi  Joseph  (Bialloblotzky,  i.  19G,  197).    Chap- 
ters 011  Coronations.  148. 


THE   PLANTAGENETS.  67 

have  been  softened,  a  general  massacre  and  plunder 
amongst  the  Jewish  houses  took  place  in  London,  '  and 
the  other  cities  and  towns'  (especially  York)  'emulated 
the  faith  of  the  Londoners,  and  with  a  like  devotion 
despatched  their  bloodsuckers  with  blood  to  hell. 
Winchester  alone,  the  people  being  prudent  and  cir- 
cumspect, and  the  city  always  acting  mildly,  spared 
its  vermin.  It  never  did  anything  over-speedily. 
Fearing  nothing  more  than  to  repent,  it  considers  the 
result  of  everything  beforehand,  temperately  concealing 
its  uneasiness,  till  it  shall  be  possible  at  a  convenient 
time  to  cast  out  the  whole  cause  of  the  disease  at  once 
and  for  ever.' 1  Such  was  the  coronation  of  the  most 
chivalrous  of  English  Kings.  So  truly  did  Sir  Walter 
Scott  catch  the  whole  spirit  of  the  age  in  his  description 
of  Front  de  Boeuf's  interview  with  Isaac  of  York. 
Such  could  be  the  Christianity,  and  such  the  Judaism, 
of  the  Middle  Ages. 

On  his  return  from  his  captivity,  Richard  was  crowned 
again  at  Winchester,  as  if  to  reassure  his  subjects.  This 
was  the  last  trace  of  the  old  Saxon  regal  char-  Ri-iianrs 
acter  of  Winchester.2  He  submitted  very  re-  nation,  nm. 
luctantly  to  this  repetition ; 3  but  the  reinvestiture  in 
the  coronation  robes  was  considered  so  important,  that 
in  these  he  was  ultimately  buried. 

7.  John  was  crowned  on  Ascension  Day 4  - —  the  same 
fatal  festival  as  that  which  the  soothsayer  afterwards 
predicted  as  the  end  of  his  reign.  On  this 

Coronation 

occasion,   in    order    to  exclude    the   rights  of  '"•)"1"1 
Arthur,  the  son  of  John's  eldest  brother  Godfrey,  the 
elective,  as  distinct   from  the  hereditary,  character  of 


1  Richard  of  I)pvi/os.  A.  i>.  1180.  -  Iliicl.,  A.I. 

8  Al.  Paris,  176.     See  Chapter  111.  4   Hoveilen, 


68  THE   CORONATIONS  OF 

the  monarchy  was  brought  out  in  the  strongest  terms. 
Ascension  At  a  later  period  Archbishop  Hubert  gave  as 
'27?uw7  his  reason  for  scrupulously  adopting  all  the 
forms  of  election  on  that  day,  that,  foreseeing  the 
King's  violent  career,  he  had  wished  to  place  every 
lawful  check  on  his  despotic  passions.1  Geoffrey,  the 
Archbishop  of  York,  was  absent,  and,  on  his  behalf,  the 
Bishop  of  Durham2  protested,  but  in  vain,  against 
Hubert's  sole  celebration  of  the  ceremony.3 

A  peculiar  function  was  now  added.  As  a  reward 
for  the  readiness  with  which  the  Cinque  Ports  had 
The  cinque  assisted  John,  in  his  unfortunate  voyages  to 
and  from  Normandy,  their  five  Barons  were 
allowed  henceforward  to  carry  the  canopy  over  the 
King  as  he  went  to  the  Abbey,  and  to  hold  it  over  him 
when  he  was  unclothed  for  the  sacred  unction.  They 
had  already  established  their  plac«  at  the  right  hand  of 
the  King  at  the  banquet,  as  a  return  for  their  successful 
guardianship  of  the  Channel  against  invaders ;  the 
Conqueror  alone  had  escaped  them.4 

8.  The  disastrous  reign  of  John  brought  out  the  sole 
instance,  if  it  be  an  instance,  of  a  coronation  apart  from 
First  Co™-  Westminster.  On  Henry  III.'s  accession  the 

nation  of 

Henry  in.    Abbey  was  in  the  hands  of  Prince  Louis  of 

St.  Simon 

and st.         France,  Shakspeare's 'Dauphin.'     He  was,  ac- 

Jiule,  Oct. 

28, 1210.  cordingly,  crowned  in  the  Abbey  of  Glouces- 
ter, by  the  Bishop  of  Winchester,  in  the  presence  of 
Gualo  the  Legate ;  but  without  unction  or  imposition 
of  hands,  lest  the  rights  of  Canterbury  should  be 

1  M.  Paris,  197. 

2  Hoveden,  793  ;  Maskell,  lii.  p.  Iviii. 

3  He  was  afterwards  crowned  at  Canterbury  with  his  Queen,  Isa- 
bella.    (Hoveden,  818  ;  Ann.  Morgan,  A.  D.  1201.) 

4  Ridgway,  p.  141. 


THE  PLANTAGENETS.  69 

infringed,  and  with  a  chaplet  or  garland  rather  than  a 
crown.1  At  the  same  time,  with  that  inconsistency 
which  pervades  the  history  of  so  many  of  our  legal  cer- 
emonies, an  edict  was  issued  that  for  a  whole  month  no 
lay  person,  male  or  female,  should  appear  in  public 
without  a  chaplet,  in  order  to  certify  that  the  King 
was  really  crowned.2  So  strong,  however,  was  the 
craving  for  the  complete  formalities  of  the  inauguration, 
that,  as  soon  as  Westminster  was  restored  to  the  King, 
he  was  again  crowned  there  in  state,  on  Whit-  Secoild  Co 
Sunday,  by  Stephen  Langton,3  having  the  day  HenryTn* 
before  laid  the  foundation  of  the  new  Lady  ^v^Mayn 
Chapel,4  the  germ  of  the  present  magnificent  1"1 
church.  The  feasting  and  joviality  was  such  that  the 
oldest  man  present  could  remember  nothing  like  it  at 
any  previous  coronation.5  It  was  a  kind  of  triumphal 
close  to  the  dark  reign  of  John.  The  young  King  him- 
self, impressed  probably  by  his  double  coronation,  asked 
the  great  theologian  of  that  time,  Grossetete,  Bishop  of 
Lincoln,  the  difficult  question,  'What  was  the  precise 
grace  wrought  in  a  King  by  the  unction  ? '  The  bishop 
answered,  with  some  hesitation,  that  it  was  the  sign  of 
the  King's  special  reception  of  the  sevenfold  gifts  of  the 
Spirit,  'as  in  Confirmation.'6 

One  alteration   Henry  III.  effected  for  future  coro- 

1  Possibly  this  might  be  from  John's  crown  having  been  lost  in  the 
Wash.  (I'auli,  i.  489.) 

'-'  ( 'apgrave's  Henries,  p.  87.  —  Henry  TV.  of  Franco,  in  like  manner, 
was  crowned  at  Chartres,  instead  of  Reims,  from  the  occupation  of 
that  city  by  the  opposite  faction. 

3  See  Hook's  ArrhUshojis,  ii.  7.'!5. 

4  See  Chapter  III. 

5  Bouquet.  Her.  Gallic.  Script,  xviii.  180. 

';  A'/i/.sW",  !;  1:24,  p.  350  (ed.  Lnard).  He  adds  a  caution,  founded 
on  Jndah's  concession  in  the  Testament  of  the  Twelve  Patriarchs,  thut 
it  did  not  equal  the  royal  to  the  sacerdotal  dignity. 


70  THE  CORONATIONS  OP 

nations,  which  implies  a  slight  declension  of  the  sense 
Abolition  of  °^  tneir  importance.  The  office  of  Lord  High 
Hi-u0"1  Steward  (the  temporary  Viceroy  between  the 
stewardship.  ^Q  King's  demise  and  the  new  King  s  inaug- 
uration), which  had  been  hereditary  in  the  house  of 
Simon  de  Montfort,  was  on  his  death  abolished  — 
partly,  perhaps,  from  a  dislike  of  De  Montfort's  en-, 
coronation  croachments,  partly  to  check  the  power  of  so 

of  Kleanor 

of  Provence,  formidable   a   potentate.      Henceforward    the 

Jan.  23, 

1^30.  omce  was  merely  created   for   the  occasion. 

The  coronation  of  his  Queen  Eleanor  of  Provence  was 
observed  with  great  state.1  But  a  curious  incident 
marred  the  splendour  of  the  coronation  banquet.  Its 
presiding  officer,  the  hereditary  Chief  Butler,  Hugh  de 
Albini,  was  absent,  having  been  excommunicated  by 
the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  for  refusing  to  let  the 
Primate  hunt  in  his  Sussex  forest.2 

9.  The  long  interval  between  the  accession  of  Ed- 
ward I.  and  his  coronation  (owing  to  his  absence  in  the 
Holy  Land)  reduced  it  more  nearly  to  the  level  of  a 
mere  ceremony  than  it  had  ever  been  before,  lie  was 
also  the  first  sovereign  who  discontinued  the  commemo- 
ration of  the  event  in  wearing  the  crown  in  state  at  the 
three  festivals.3  But  in  itself  it  was  a  peculiarly  wel- 
come day,  as  the  return  from  his  perilous  journey.  It 
was  the  first  coronation  in  the  Abbey  as  it  now  appears, 

1  Matthew  Paris,  350. 

2  '  De  officio  piiicernarire  servivit  efi  die  Comes  Warenn'  vice  Hu- 
gonis  de  Albhiiaco  Comitis  de  Ariindel  ad  quern  [?nunc]  illud  officium 
spectat.     Fuit  autem  idem  ^  .  .  eo  tempore  sententia   excommunica- 
tionis  innodatns  a  Cant'  eo  quod  cum  fugare  fecisset  Archiepiscopus 
in  foresta   dicti    Hugonis  in  Suthsex  idem    Hugo   canes   suos   cepit. 
Dicit  autem   Archiepiscopus   hoc  esse  jus  suum  ftigandi  in   qualibet 
foresta  Anglire  quandocunque  voluerit.'     lied  Book  of  the  Exchequer 
(f.  232).     He  was  under  age      Matthew  Paris  (p.  421). 

3  Camden's  Remains,  338 


EDWARD  I.   AND  ELEANOR.  71 

bearing  the  fresh  marks  of  his  father's  munificence.    He 
and  his   beloved  Eleanor  appeared  together,  coronation 
the  first  Kiiicr  and  Queen  who  had  been  jointly  andEieauori 

Ail},'.  1'J,1 

crowned.  His  mother,  the  elder  Eleanor,  was  1274. 
present.  Archbishop  Kilwarby  officiated  as  Primate.2 
On  the  following  day  Alexander  III.  of  Scotland,  whose 
armorial  bearings  were  hung  in  the  Choir  of  the  Abbey, 
did  homage.3  For  the  honour  of  so  martial  a  king, 
500  great  horses  —  on  some  of  which  Edward  and  his 
brother  Edmund,  with  their  attendants,  had  ridden  to 
the  banquet  —  were  let  loose  among  the  crowd,  any  one 
to  take  them  for  his  own  as  he  could.4 

There  was,  however,  another  change  effected  in  the 
coronations  by  Edward,  which,  unlike  most  of  the  in- 
cidents related  in  this  chapter,  has  a  direct  The  coro- 

•  •       ii>       -r>      •  i  ^  nation 

bearing  on  the  Abbey  itselt.    .Besides  the  cere-  stone. 
monies  of  unction  and  coronation,  which  properly  be- 
longed to  the  consecration  of  the  kings,  there  was  one 
more  closely  connected  with  the  original  prac-  The  instai- 

.,      ,  ,  „         .    .  .  .  l.ition  of  the 

tice  or  election  —  that  or  raising  the  sovereign  Km-s. 
aloft  into  an  elevated  seat.5  In  the  Frankish  tribes,  ns 
also  in  the  Roman  Empire,  this  was  done  by  a  band  of 
warriors  lifting  the  chosen  chief  on  their  shields,  of 
which  a  trace  lingered  in  the  French  coronations,  in 
raising  the  King  to  the  top  of  the  screen  between  the 
choir  and  nave.  But  the  more  ordinary  usage,  amongst 
the  Gothic  and  Celtic  races,  was  to  place  him  on  a  huge 
natural  stone,  which  had  been,  or  was  henceforth,  in- 
vested with  a  magical  sanctity.  On  such  a  stone,  the 
'great  stone'  (nwr<(*tcn),  still  visible  on  the  grave  of 

1  Close  Roll.  -2  Kdw.  I.  m.  5.  2  Hook,  ;;;.  311. 

3  Trivet,  p.  -20-2.     See  Chapter  III. 

4  Stow's  Ai»>ri/x:   Kny^htun,  c.  2401.      (Pauli.  ii.  12.) 
*  So  Liber  Ret/alts,     S.ee  Maskell,  iii.  p.  xlviii. 


72  THE   CORONATIONS. 

Odin  near  Upsala,  were  inaugurated  the  Kings  of  Swe- 
den till  the  time  of  Gustavus  Vasa.  Such  a  chair  and 
stone,  for  the  Dukes  of  Carinthia,  is  still  to  be  seen  at 
Zollfell.1  Seven  stone  seats  for  the  Emperor  and  his 
Electors  mark  the  spot  where  the  Lahri  joins  the  Khine 
at  Lalmstein.  On  such  a  mound  the  King  of  Hun- 
gary appears,  sword  in  hand,  at  Presburg  or  Pesth. 
On  such  stones  decrees  were  issued  in  the  republican 
states  of  Torcello,  Venice,  and  Verona.  On  a  stone  like 
these,  nearer  home,  was  placed  the  Lord  of  the  Isles. 
The  stones  on  which  the  Kings  of  Ireland  were  crowned 
were,  even  down  to  Elizabeth's  time,  believed  to  be 
the  inviolable  pledges  of  Irish  independence.  One  such 
remains  near  Deny,  marked  with  the  two  cavities  in 
which  the  feet  of  the  King  of  Ulster  were  placed  , 2 
another  in  Monaghan,  called  the  M'JMahon  Stone,  where 
the  impression  of  the  foot  remained  till  1809.3  On  the 
King's  Stone,  as  we  have  seen,  beside  the  Thames,  were 
crowned  seven  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  kings.  And  in 
Westminster  itself,  by  a  usage  doubtless  dating  back 
from  a  very  early  period,  the  Kings,  before  they  passed 
from  the  Palace  to  the  Abbey,  were  lifted  to  a  marble 
seat,  twelve  feet  long  and  three  feet  broad,  placed  at 
the  upper  end  of  Westminster  Hall,  and  called,  from  this 
peculiar  dignity,  '  The  King's  Bench.'  4 

Still  there  was  yet  wanting  something  of  this  myste- 
rious natural  charm   in  the  Abbey  itself,  and    this    it 

1  Gilbert  and  Churchill's  Dolomite  Mountains,  p.  483. 

2  It  is  now  called  St  Oolninb's  Stone.     The  marks  of  the  feet  are, 
according  to  the  legend,  imprinted  by  Colnmha.     I5nt  Spenser's  state- 
ment of  the  Irish  practice  (See  Ordnance  Survey  of  Londonderry,  p.  233) 
leaves  no  doubt  as  to  their  origin. 

3  See  Shirley's  Farnej/,  p.  74. 

4  Taylor,  p.  303.  —  It  is  mentioned  at  the  coronations  of  Richard  IL 
and  Richard  III.     (Maskell,  iii.  pp.  xlviii.  xlix.) 


THE   STONE   OF    SCONE.  73 

was  which  Edward  I.  provided.     In  the  capital  of  the 
Scottish  kingdom  was  a  venerable  fragment  of  rock,  to 
which,  at  least  as  early  as  the  fourteenth  cen-  i^emi  of 
tury,  the  following  legend   was  attached :  —  of  scon". 
The  stony  pillar  on  which  Jacob  1  slept  at  Bethel  was 
by  his  countrymen  transported  to  Egypt.    Thither  came 
Gathelus,  son  of  Cecrops,  King  of  Athens,  and  married 


THE   CORONATION   STONE. 

Scota,  daughter  of  Pharaoh.  He  and  his  Egyptian  wife, 
alarmed  at  the  fame  of  Moses,  tied  with  the  stone  to 
•Sicily  or  to  Spain.  From  Brigantia,  in  Spain,  it  was 
carried  off  by  Simon  Brech,2  the  favourite  son  of  Milo 
the  Scot,  to  Ireland.  It  was  thrown  on  the  seashore  as 
an  anchor;  or  (for  the  legend  varied  at  this  point)  an 
anchor  which  was  cast  out,  in  consequence  of  a  rising 
storm,  pulled  up  the  stone  from  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 
On  the  sacred  Hill  of  Tara  it  became  '  Lia  Fail,'  the 

1  Or  Abraham.  (Rye's  I7s/Vs  of  Foreigners,  ]'•  10  )  For  the  belief 
still  maintained  that  tlie  coronation  stone  is  Jacob's  ]iillo\v,  see  Jewish 
Chronicle,  June  14,  '21,  187:2;  and  an  elaborate  oration  by  the  Hev. 
K.  Clover. 

-  llolinslied,  The  Historic  of  Scot/and  (1585),  p.  .11.  Weever's 
Funeral  Munuuiciils,  p.  239. 


74  THE   CORONATIONS. 

'  Stone  of  Destiny.'  On  it  the  Kings  of  Ireland  were 
placed.  If  the  chief  was  a  true  successor,  the  stone 
was  silent ;  if  a  pretender,  it  groaned  aloud  as  with 
thunder.1  At  this  point,  where  the  legend  begins  to 
pass  into  history,  the  voice  of  national  discord  begins 
to  make  itself  heard.  The  Irish  antiquarians  maintain 
that  the  true  stone  long  remained  on  the  Hill  of  Tara. 
One  of  the  green  mounds  within  that  venerable  precinct 
is  called  the  '  Coronation  Chair ; '  and  a  rude  pillar, 
now  serving  as  a  monument  over  the  graves  of  the 
rebels  of  1798,  is  by  some  2  thought  to  be  the  original 
'  Lia  Fail.'  But  the  stream  of  the  Scottish  tradition  car- 
ries us  on.  Fergus,  the  founder  of  the  Scottish  mon- 
archy, bears  the  sacred  stone  across  the  sea  from 
Ireland  to  Dunstaffnage.  In  the  vaults  of  Dunstaffnage 
Castle  a  hole  is  still  shown,  where  it  is  said  to  have 
been  laid.  With  the  migration  of  the  Scots  eastward, 
the  stone  was  moved  by  Kenneth  II.  (A.  D.  840),  and 
planted  on  a  raised  plot  of  ground  at  Scone,  '  because 
that  the  last  battle  with  the  Picts  was  there  fought.'  3 

Whatever  may  have  been  the  previous  wanderings  of 
the  relic,  at  Scone  it  assumes  an  unquestionable  his- 
torical position.     It  was  there  encased  in  a 

Its  history.  . 

chair  of  wood,  and  stood  by  a  cross  on  the  east 
of  the  monastic  cemetery,  on  or  beside  the  '  Mount  of 
Belief,'  which  still  exists.  In  it,  or  upon  it,  the  Kings 
of  Scotland  were  placed  by  the  Earls  of  Fife.  From  it 

1  Ware's  Antiqnitips  of  Ireland  (Harris),  1764,  i.  10,  124.  —  Compare 
the  Lleehllafar,  or  Speaking  Stone,  in  the  stream  in  front  of  the  Ca- 
thedral of  St.  David's.     (Jones'  and  Freeman's  History  and  Antiquities 
of  St.  David's,  p.  222.) 

2  Petrie's  History  and  Antiquities  of  Tara  (Transactions  of  Royal 
Irish  Academy,  xviii.  pt.  2,  pp.  159-161).     The  name  of  Fergus  is  still 
attached  to  it. 

3  Holinshed's  Hist.  Scot.  p.  132. 


THE   STONE   OF   SCONE.  75 

Scone  became  the  '  Secies  principalis  '  of  Scotland,  and 
the  kingdom  of  Scotland  the  kingdom  of  Scone  ;  and 
hence  for  mar  y  generations  Perth,  and  not  E  iinburgh, 
was  regarded  as  the  capital  city  of  Scotland.1 

Wherever  else  it  may  have  strayed,  there  need  be  no 
question,  at  least,  of  its  Scottish  origin.  Its  geological 
formation  is  that  of  the  sandstone  of  the  western  coasts 
of  Scotland.2  It  has  the  appearance  —  thus  far  agree- 
ing with  the  tiadition  of  Dunstaffnage  —  of  having  once 
formed  part  of  a  building.  But  of  all  explanations  con- 
cerning it,  the  most  probable  is  that  which  identities  it 
with  the  stony  pillow  on  which  Coluinba  rested,  and  on 
which  his  dying  head  was  laid  in  his  Abbey  of  lona  ;3 
and  if  so  it  belongs  to  the  minister  of  the  first  authentic 
Western  consecration  of  a  Christian  Prince  4  —  that  of 
the  Scottish  chief  Aidan. 

On  this  precious  relic  Edward  fixed  his  hold.     He 
had  already  hung  up  before  the  Confessor's  Shrine  the 
golden  coronet  of  the  last  Prince  of   Wales. 
It  was  a  still  further  glory  to  deposit  there  the 
\ery  seat  of  the  kingdom  of  Scotland.     On  it  lie  him- 
self was  crowned  King  of  the  Scots.5     From  the  Pope 
he  procured  a  bull  to  raze  to  the  ground  the  rebellious 
Abbey  of  Scone,  which  had  once  possessed  it ;  and  his 
design  was  only  prevented,  as  Scotland  itself  was  saved, 

1  The  facts  respecting  Scone  and  the  Scottish  coronations  I  o\vo  to 
the  valuable  information  of  the  late  lamented  Mr.  Joseph  Robertson  of 
Edinburgh.     See  Appendix  to  Chapter  II.,  and    Preface   to   Sta/ntn 
Kcrli-siiv  Scoticnnce,  p.  xxi. 

2  This  is  the  result  of  a  careful  examination  by  Professor  Kanisay 
in  1805. 

3  For  the  argument  by  which  this  is  supported,  I  must  refer  to 
Mr.  Robertson's  statement.     (Appendix.) 

4  See  p.  4!». 

5  The.  Lift-  ami  Acts  of  .Sir  William   Wallace  (Blind  Harry),  Aber- 
deen, 1630,  p.  5. 


76  THE   CORONATIONS. 

by  his  sudden  death  at  Brcugh-on-the-Sands.  West- 
minster was  to  be  an  English  Scone.  It  was  his  latest 
care  for  the  Abbey.  In  that  last  year  of  Edward's 
reign,  the  venerable  chair,  which  still  encloses  it,  was 
made  for  it  by  the  orders  of  its  captor  ;  the  fragment  of 
the  world-old  Celtic  races  was  embedded  in  the  new 
Plantagenet  oak.1  The  King  had  originally  intended 
the  seat  to  have  been  of  bronze,  and  the  workman, 
Adam,  had  actually  begun  it.  But  it  was  ultimately 
constructed  of  wood,  and  decorated  by  Walter  the 
painter,  who  at  the  same  time  was  employed  on  the 
Painted  Chamber,  and  probably  on  the  Chapter  House. 

The  elation  of  the  English  King  may  be  measured 
by  the  anguish  of  the  Scots.  Now  that  this  foundation 
of  their  monarchy  was  gone,  they  laboured  with  re- 
doubled energy  to  procure,  what  they  had  never  had 
before,  a  full  religious  consecration  of  their  Kings. 
This  was  granted  to  Robert  the  Bruce,  by  the  Pope,  a 
short  time  before  his  death ;  and  his  son  David,  to 
make  up  for  the  loss  of  the  stone,  wras  the  first  crowned 
and  anointed  King  of  Scotland.2  But  they  still  cher- 
ished the  hope  of  recovering  it.  A  solemn  article  in 
the  Treaty  of  Northampton,  which  closed  the  long  war 
between  the  two  countries,  required  the  restoration 

D  1338  °f  ^ie  l°st  rehcs  to  Scotland.  Accordingly 
July  21.  Eichard  III.,  then  residing  at  Bardesly,  di- 
rected his  writ,  under  the  Privy  Seal,  to  the  Abbot  and 
Convent  of  Westminster,  commanding  them  to  give 
the  stone  for  this  pttrpose  to  the  Sheriffs  of  London, 
who  \vould  receive  the  same  from  them  by  indenture,3 
and  cause  it  to  be  carried  to  the  Queen-mother.  Al] 

1  Gleanings,  p.  125;  Neale,  ii.  1.32. 

2  Sfahita  Eccl.  Scoticance,  Pref.  p.  xlvi. 

3  Ayliffe's  Calendar  of  Ancient  Charters,  p.  Iviii. 


THE    STONE   OF  SCONE.  77 

die  other  articles  of   the  treaty  were  fulfilled.     Even 
'  the  Black  Eood,'  the  sacred  cross  of  Holy  Rood,  which 
Edward  I.  had  carried  off  with  the  other  relics,  Its  reteu 
was  restored.     But  '  the  Stone  of  Scone,  on  tiou- 
which   the   Kings  of   Scotland   used   at   Scone   to   be 
placed  on  their   inauguration,  the   people  of   London 
would  by  no  means  whatever  allow  to  depart 

A.  D.  1363. 

from  themselves.' 1  More  than  thirty  years 
after,  David  II.  being  then  old  and  without  male  issue, 
negotiations  were  begun  with  Edward  III.  that  one  of 
his  sons  should  succeed  to  the  Scottish  crown  ;  and 
that,  in  this  event,  the  Royal  Stone  should  be  delivered 
out  of  England,  and  he  should,  after  his  English  coro- 
nation, be  crowned  upon  it  at  Scone. a  But  these 
arrangements  were  never  completed.  In  the  Abbey, 
in  spite  of  treaties  and  negotiations,  it  remained, 
and  still  remains.  The  affection  which  now  clings  to 
it  had  already  sprung  up,  and  forbade  all  thought  of 
removing  it. 

It  would  seem  as  if  Edward's  chief   intention    had 
been  to  present  it,  as  a  trophy  of  his  conquest,  to  the 
Confessor's  Shrine.     On  it  the  priest  was  to 
sit  when  celebrating  mass  at  the  altar  of  St. 
Edward.     The  Chair,  doubtless,  standing  where  it  now 
stands,  but  facing,  as  it  naturally  would,  westward,  was 
then  visible  down  the  whole  church,  like  the  marble 
chair  of    the    metropolitical    See  at    Canterbury  in  its 
original  position.     When  the  Abbot  sate  there,  on  high' 
festivals,  it  was  for  him  a  seat  grander  than  any  episco- 
pal throne.     The  Abbey  thus  acquired  the  one  feature 
needed  to  make   it   equal   to  a   cathedral  —  a   sacred 
Chair  or  Cathedra. 

1   f'lironii-lf  <>f  /Miien-'ist,  p.  201  ;  Maitland,  p.  14(5. 
'2  Rvrner's  Ftrtlcnt.  ";   !:>(>. 


78  THE   CORONATIONS. 

In  this  chair  and  on  this  stone  every  English  sov- 
ereign from  Edward  I.  to  Queen  Victoria  has  been 
inaugurated.  In  this  chair  Richard  II.  sits,  in  the  con- 
temporary portrait  still  preserved  in  the  Abbey.  The 
'  Regale  Scotioe '  is  expressly  named  in  the  coronation 
of  Henry  IV.,1  and  '  King  Edward's  Chair '  in  the  .coro- 
nation of  Mary.2  Camden  calls  it  '  the  Royal  Chair  ; ' 
and  Selden  says,  '  In  it  are  the  coronations  of  our 
sovereigns.'  When  Shakspeare  figures  the  ambitious 
dreams  of  the  Duchess  of  Gloucester,  they  fasten  011 
this  august  throne. 

Methinks  I  sate  in  seat  of  majesty 

In  the  Cathedral  Church  of  AVestminster, 

And  in  that  Chair  where  kings  and  queens  are  crowned.3 

When  James  VI.  of  Scotland  became  James  I.  of  Eng- 
land, '  the  antique  regal  chair  of  enthronisation  did 
confessedly  receive,  with  the  person  of  his  Majesty, 
the  full  accomplishment  also  of  that  prophetical  pre- 
diction of  his  coming  to  the  crown,  which  antiquity 
hath  recorded  to  have  been  inscribed  thereon.' 4 
It  was  one  of  those  secular  predictions  of 
which  the  fulfilment  cannot  be  questioned.  Whether 
the  prophecy  was  actually  inscribed  on  the  stone  maybe 
doubted,  though  this  seems  to  be  implied,5  and  ou  the 
lower  side  is  still  visible  a  groove  which  mr.y  have  con- 
tained it ;  but  the  fact  that  it  was  circulated  and  believed 
as  early  as  the  fourteenth  century  6  is  certain, — • 

1  Annulcs   Ilcnrici   Quarti   (St.  Albau's   Chronicles.     Riley,  A.  i>. 
1399),  p.  294. 

2  Planche,  p.  16. 

3  Shakspeare's  Henry  VI.  Part  ii.  Act  i.  Sc.  ii. 

4  Speed,  p.  885. 

5  Boethius,  Hist.  Scot.     (Par.  1575),  f.  2,  §  .30. 

6  See  Appendix.     Fordun,  1.  i.  c.  xxviii.     Some   inscription  was 
upon  it  in  the  sixteenth  century.     (Kye's  Visits  of  Foreigners,  p.  132.) 


The  pre- 
diction. 


THE   STONE   OF   SCONE.  7P 

Xi  fallat  fatum,  Scoti,  quocunque  locatum 
Invcnicnt  lapidem,  rcgnare  tcncntur  ibidem. 

Once  only  it  lias  been  moved  out  of  the  Abbey,  and 
that  for  an  occasion  which  proves,  perhaps  more  than 
any  other  single  event  since  its  first  capture,  the  impor- 
tance attached  to  it  by  the  rulers  and  the  people  of 
England.  When  Cromwell  was  installed  as  Lord  Pro- 
tector in  Westminster  Hall,  he  was  placed  '  in  the  Chair 
of  Scotland,'  brought  out  of  Westminster  Abbey  for 
that  singular  and  special  occasion.1 

It  has  continued,  probably,  the  chief  object  of  attrac- 
tion to  the  innumerable  visitors  of  the  Abbey.  Its  interest 
'We  were  then,'  says  Addison,2  'conveyed  to  The.Sl>ec. 
the  two  coronation  chairs,  when  my  friend,  tl 
having  heard  that  the  stone  underneath  the  most 
ancient  of  them,  which  was  brought  from  Scotland,  was 
called  Jacob's  Pillow,  sate  himself  down  in  the  chair; 
and,  looking  like  the  figure  of  an  old  Gothic  king, 
asked  our  interpreter  what  authority  they  had  to  say 
that  Jacob  had  ever  been,  in  Scotland.  The  fellow, 
instead  of  returning  him  an  answer,  told  him  that  he 
hoped  his  honour  would  pay  the  forfeit.  I  could 
observe  Sir  Uoger  a  little  ruffled  on  being  thus  tre- 
panned ;  but,  our  guide  not  insisting  upon  his  demand, 
the  knight  soon  recovered  his  good  humour,  and  whis- 
pered in  my  ear  that  if  Will  Wimble  were  with  us,  and 
saw  those  two  chairs,  it  would  go  hard,  but  he  would 
get  a  tobacco-stopper  out  of  one  or  t'other  of  them.' 

That  is  indeed  a  picture  which  brings  many  ages 
together:  —  the  venerable  mediaval  throne;  the  old- 
fashioned  Tory  of  the  seventeenth  century,  filled  with 
an  unconscious  reverence  for  the  past;  the  hard-visaged 

]    Forstcr's  I.'f<  «f  ('mit.will,  v.  4i'l.  -  Spectator,  No.  ."52'J. 


80  THE   CORONATIONS   OF 

eighteenth  century,  in  the  person  of  the  guide,  to  whom 
stone  and  throne  and  ancient  knight  were  alike  indiffer- 
ent ;  the  philosophic  poet,  standing  by,  with  an  eye  to 
see  and  an  ear  to  catch  the  sentiment  and  the  humcur 
of  the  whole  scene.  In  the  next  generation,  the  harsh 
indifference  had  passed  from  the  rude  guide  into  the 
mouth  of  the  most  polished  writer  of  the  time.  '  Look 
ye  there,  gentlemen,'  said  the  attendant  to  Goldsmith, 

pointing  to  an  old  oak  chair :  '  there 's  a 
Goldsmith. 

curiosity  tor  ye  !  In  that  chair  the  Kings  of 
England  were  crowned.  You  see  also  a  stone  under- 
neath, and  that  stone  is  Jacob's  Pillow  ! '  'I  could  sec 
no  curiosity  either  in  the  oak  chair  or  the  stone  :  could 
I,  indeed,  behold  one  of  the  old  Kings  of  England 
seated  in  this,  or  Jacob's  head  laid  on  the  other,  there 
might  be  something  curious  in  the  sight.'1  But,  in 
spite  of  Goldsmith's  sneer,  the  popular  interest  lias 
been  unabated ;  and  the  very  disfigurements  of  the 
Chair,2  scratched  over  from  top  to  bottom  with  the 
names  of  inquisitive  visitors,  prove  not  only  the  reck- 
less irreverence  of  the  intruders,  but  also  the  universal 
attraction  of  the  relic.  It  is  the  one  primeval  monument 
which  binds  together  the  whole  Empire.  The  iron 
rings,  the  battered  surface,  the  crack  which  has  all  but 
rent  its  solid  mass  asunder,  bear  witness  to  its  long 
migrations.3  It  is  thus  embedded  in  the  heart  of  the 
English  monarchy  • —  an  element  of  poetic,  patriarchal, 

1  Citizen  of  the  World,  (Letter  xiii ). 

2  '  Peter  Abbott  slept  in  tbis  chair  July  5,  1800.'     It  is  part  of  the 
same  adventure  in  which  the  said  Peter  Abbott  engaged  for  a  wager, 
by  hiding  in  the  tombs,  that  he  would  write  his  name  at  night  on  I'ur- 
cell's  monument  (Malcolm's  London,  p.  191);  where,  however,  it  does 
not  appear. 

3  A  base  foul  stone,  made  precious  by  the  foil 

Of  England's  Chair.  —  (Sliakspeare's  Richard  III.  Act.  v.  Sc.  iii.) 


THE   PLANTAGENETS.  81 

heathen  times,  which,  like  Araunah's  rocky  threshing- 
floor  in  the  midst  of  the  Temple  of  Solomon,  carries 
hack  our  thoughts  to  races  and  customs  now  almost 
extinct ;  a  link  which  unites  the  Throne  of  England 
to  the  traditions  of  Tara  and  lona,  and  connects  the 
charm  of  our  complex  civilisation  with  the  forces  of 
our  mother  earth,  —  the  stocks  1  and  stones  of  savage 
nature. 

10.  The  first  English  King  who  sat  on  this  august 
seat  in  the  Abbey  was  the  unworthy  Edward  , 

*  J  Coronation 

II.2     He  and  Isabella  his  wife  were  crowded  '*  K^;l,''d 
together  by  Woodlock,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  ^?>  Slirove 

J  '    Tuesday, 

one  of  a  commission  of  three,  named  according  lyus 
to  Lanfranc's  arrangement,  by  Winchelsea,  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury,3  who  was  absent  and  ill  at  Home.  The 
selection  of  Woodlock  from  among  the  three  was  a 
special  insult  to  the  memory  of  Edward  I.,4  against 
whom  Woodlock  had  conspired.5  The  like  unfeeling 
insolence  was  shown  in  the  fact  that  the  most  conspic- 
uous personage  in  the  whole  ceremony,  who  carried  the 
crown  before  any  of  the  magnates  of  the  realm,  was 
Piers  Gaveston,  the  favourite  whom  his  father's  dying 
wish  had  excluded  from  his  court.6  There  was  one 
incident  which  the  clergy  of  the  Abbey  marked  with 
peculiar  satisfaction.  In  the  enormous  throng  an  old 
enemy  of  the  convent,  Sir  John  Bakewell,  was  trodden 
to  death.7 

1  So  tho  venerable  'Stone  of  Fevers,'  evidently  an  old  Drnidiral 
relic,  at  the  entrance  of  the  Cathedral  of  I.e  1'uv,  in  Auvergne;  so  the 
'golden  stone'  of  Clogher,  long  preserved  in  the  Cathedral  of  Clogher. 
(Todd's  St.  rnl.rii-k,  12'.).) 

2  His  is  the  first  Coronation  Roll.     (Hvnier,  p.  3.'! ;   1'anli,  ii.  205.) 

3  Taylor,  p.  390.  •»   See  Chapter  III. 
5  Hook,  iii.  438. 

e  Coronation  Koll  of  Edward  II.,  in.  3</  (Hyiner,  p  33).     Close  Holl 
of  1  Edward  II.,  in.  10(/  (Hvnier,  p.  3G).  7  Neale,  i.  71. 

VOL.  I.  —  6 


82  THE   CORONATIONS   OF 

11.  Edward  III.'s  accession,  taking  place  not  after  the 
death  but  the  deposition  of  his  father,  was  marked  by 
coronation    a  solemn  election.     In   a  General  Assembly 

ol'  Edward 

in  convened  in  the  Abbey,   January  20,  1327, 

Archbishop  Reynolds  preached  on  the  dubious  text, 
Vox  populi  vox  Dei.1  The  Prince  would  not  accept  tha 
Feb  j ,  election  till  it  had  been  confirmed  by  his 
1  !-7-  father,  and  then  within  ten  days  was  crowned. 

Isabella  his  mother,  '  the  shewolf  of  France,'  affected  to 
weep  through  the  whole  ceremony.  The  medal  rep- 
The  sword  resented  the  childish  modesty  of  the  1'rince: 

and  Shield  .   .       . 

of  state.  a  sceptre  on  a  heap  of  hearts,  with  the  motto, 
coronation  PopiiH  dcit  jura  voluntcis ;  and  a  hand  stretched 

"fPliiliW-a.  , 

Feb.  2,  1328.  out  to  save  a  falling  crown,  A/on  rapit  sea 
accipit?  The  sword  of  state  and  shield  of  state,  still 
kept  in  the  Abbey,  were  then  first  carried  before  the 
sovereign.4  Queen  Philippa  was  crowned  in  the 
following  year,  on  Quinquagesima  Sunday. 

12.  If   Edward    III.'s    coronation    is  *  but    scantily 
known,  that  of  his  grandson,  Kichard  II.,  is  recorded  in 
Coronation     the  utmost  detail.     The  '  Liber  Rcgalis?  which 
iV,  July  16,  prescribed  its  order  and  has  been  the  basis  of 

1377 

all  subsequent  ceremonials,  has  been  in  the 

The  '  Liber 

Re-aiis.'  custody  of  the  Abbots  and  Deans  of  West- 
minster from  the  time  that  it  was  drawn  up,  on  this 
occasion,  by  Abbot  Littlington.  The  magnificence  of 
the  dresses  and  of  the  procession  is  also  described  at 
length  in  the  contemporary  chronicles.5  Archbishop 

1  Chron.  Lanerr.  258. 

2  Close  Roll  of  1  Edward  TIT.,  m.  24r/  (Rymer,  p.  684). 

3  Chapters,  p.  156.     I  cannot  find  the   authority  for   these   state- 
ments. 

4  See  the  Ironmongers'  E.rJn'liition,  pp.  142, 144.    See  also  Chapter  III. 

5  Walsinghain,   i.  331,  3.'!2.     It   is   also   well   given   in    Riclgway, 
pp.  126-160;   Gent.  May.  1831   (part  ii.),  p.  113. 


THE   PLANTAGENETS.  83 

Sudbury  officiated.    Three  historical  peculiarities  marki  d 
the  event.     It  is  the  first  known  instance  of  The  r\-»- 

ression  I  rum 

a  custom,  which  prevailed  till  the  time  of  the  Tower. 
Charles  II.  —  the  cavalcade  from  the  Tower.  The  King 
remained  there  for  a  week,  in  order  to  indicate  that  he 
was  master  of  the  turbulent  city ;  and  then  rode  bare- 
headed, amidst  every  variety  of  pageant,  through 
Cheapside,  Fleet  Street,  and  the  Strand,  to  The 

'  Knights  of 

Westminster.  He  was  accompanied  by  a  the  Bath.' 
body  of  knights,  created  for  the  occasion,  who,  after 
having  been  duly  washed  in  a  bath,  assumed  their 
knightly  dresses,  and  escorted  their  young  companion 
to  his  palace.  This  was  the  first  beginning  of  the 
'  Knights  of  the  Bath,'  who  from  this  time  forward 
formed  part  of  the  coronation  ceremony  till  the  close  of 
the  seventeenth  century.  A  third  peculiarity  is  the  first 
appearance  of  the  Champion  —  certainly  of  the  first 
Dymoke.  When  the  service  was  over,  and  the  boy- 
King,  exhausted  with  the  long  effort,  was  carried  out 
fainting,  the  great  nobles,  headed  by  Henry  Percy,  Lord 
Marshal,  mounted  their  chargers  at  the  door  Tlip 
of  the  Abbey,  and  proceeded  to  clear  the  way  Uul:"i""n 
for  the  procession,  when  they  were  met  by  Sir  John 
Dymoke,  the  Champion.  The  unexpected  encounter 
of  this  apparition,  and  the  ignorance  of  the  Champion 
as  to  where  he  should  place  himself,  seem  to  indicate 
that  either  the  office  or  the  person  was  new.  Dymoke 
had,  in  fact,  contested  the  right  with  Baldwin  de  Freville, 
who,  like  him,  claimed  to  be  descended  from  the  Kilpecs 
and  the  Marmions.  He  won  his  cause,  and  appeared 
at  the  gates  of  the  monastery  on  a  magnificently- 
caparisoned  charger,  'the  best  but  one,'  which,  according 
to  fixed  usage,  he  had  taken  from  the  royal  stable. 
Before  him  rode  his  spear-bearer  and  shield-bearer,  and 


84  THE   CORONATIONS   OF 

they  sate  at  the  gates  waiting  for  the  end  of  Mass.  His 
motto,  in  allusion  to  his  name,  was  Dimico  pro  rcys. 
The  Earl  Marshal  '  bade  him  wait  for  his  perquisites 
until  the  King  was  sate  down  to  dinner,  and  in  the 
meantime  he  had  better  unarm  himself,  take  his  rest 
and  ease  awhile.'  So  he  retired,  discomfited,  to  wait 
outside  the  Hall,  the  proper  scene  of  his  challenged 
His  appearance  at  that  juncture  probably  belonged  to 
the  same  revival  of  chivalric  usages  that  had  just  pro- 
duced the  Order  of  the  Garter  and  the  Pc-und  Table  at 
Windsor.  It  lingered  down  to  our  own  V'.me,  with  the 
right  of  wager  of  battle,  which  was  asserted  only  a  few 
years  before  the  last  appearance  of  the  0'iampion  at  the 
coronation  of  George  IV. 

The  profusion  of  the  banquet  accorded  with  the  ex- 
travagant character  of  the  youthful  Prince.  The  golden 
eagle  in  the  Palace  Yard  spouted  wine.  The  expense* 
was  so  vast  as  to  be  made  an  excuse  for  tne  immense 
demands  on  Parliament  afterwards.  The  Bishop  oi 
Piochester,  in  his  coronation  sermon,  as  i.(  with  a  pre- 
science of  Wat  Tyler,  uttered  a  warnii-jj  ngainst  ex- 
cessive taxation  :  2 

Fair  laughs  the  morn,  and  soft  the  zep'fyr  blows: 
In  gallant  trim  the  gilded  vessel  goes, 
Youth  on  the  prow,  and  pleasure  at  the'helin, 
Regardless  of  the  sweeping  whirlwind's  sway, 
That  hush'd  in  grim  repose  expects  his  evening  prey. 
Fill  high  the  sparkling  bowl, 

The  rich  repast  prepare 

Close  by  the  roval  chair 

Fell  thirst  and  famine  scowl 

A  baleful  smile  upon  their  baffled  guest. 

1  Holinshed,  p.  417;  Walsinghatn,  ii.  337.     See  also  Archceologia, 
xx.  207  ;  Maskell,  iii.  p.  xxxiii. 

2  Turner's  Middle  Ai/rs,  ii.  245. 

'  Gray's  Bard,  —  See  the  description   of  the   King's  portrait  in 


THE   HOUSE   OF  LANCASTER.  85 

13.  The  breach  in  the  direct  line  of  the  Plantagenets, 
which  is   marked   by  the   interruption   of  their  West- 
minster tombs,  is  also  indicated  by  the  un-  c,,,.,,,,,,^ 
usual  precautions  added  at  the  coronation  of  "'  Ileni'-v  IV- 
Henry  IV.  to  supply  the  defects  of  his  title.  EonX,*. 
The  election  had  been  in  Westminster  Hall.  *'• 131>y< 
Tlie  texts  of  the  three  inauguration  sermons  were  all 
significant:  'Jacob'  (a  supplanter  indeed)  'received  the 
blessing;'  'This  man'  (in  contrast  to  the  unfortunate 
youth)    'shall  rule  over    us;'    '  JJV   (the   Parliament) 
'  must  take  care  that  our  kingdom  be  quiet.' l  we.ines.iay, 
The  day  of  his  coronation  was  the  great  fes-  i::i>'.i.=" 
tival  of  the  Abbey,  October  13,  the  anniversary  of  his 
own  exile.     He  came  to  the  Abbey  with  an  ostentatious 
unpunctuality,  having   heard  three  Masses,  and  spent 
long  hours  with  his  confessor  on  the  morning  of  that 
day,  in  accordance  with  the  real  or  affected  piety,  which 
was  to  compensate   in  the  eyes  of  his  subjects,  for  his 
usurpation.     His  bath  and  the  bath  of  his  knights  is 

brought  out  more    prominently  than   before.  , 

iii«'  A  m- 

In  his  coronation  the  use  of  the  Scottish  '"'"•l 
stone3  is  first  expressly  mentioned;  and,  yet  more 
suspiciously,  a  vase  of  holy  oil,  corresponding  to  the 
ampulla  of  Jleiins,  first  makes  its  appearance.  The 
Virgin  Mary  had  given  (so  the  report  ran)  a  golden 
eagle  filled  with  holy  oil  to  St.  Thomas  of  Canterbury, 
during  his  exile,  with  the  promise  that  any  Kings  of 
England  anointed  with  it  would  be  merciful  rulers 

Chapter  III.  Quern  Anno  was  crowned  in  the  AMiey  by  Archbishop 
C.mrtenay,  l.'!82.  (S:indf..rd.  p.  1  !>.'!.) 

1  Knygliton,  cc.  274.">,  27.~><;.  (llirluinl  II.  par  M.  Wullon,  ii.  :!07- 
312.) 

-  Arrti.  xx.  200. 

3  Anittilfs  /.'/>.  //.  t-t  Ili-n.  IV.,  .S'.  AHxin's  Chroniclfs  (Kiley),  pp. 
294,  J297. 


86  THE  CORONATIONS  OF 

and  champions  of  the  church.1  It  was  revealed  by  a 
hermit,  through  the  first  Duke  of  Lancaster,  to  the 
Black  Prince,  by  him  laid  up  in  the  Tower  for  his  son's 
coronation,  unaccountably  overlooked  by  Richard  II., 
but  discovered  by  him  in  the  last  year  of  his  reign,  and 
taken  to  Ireland,  with  the  request  to  Courtenay,  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury,  to  anoint  him  with  it.  The 
Archbishop  refused,  on  the  ground  that  the  regal 
unction,  being  of  the  nature  of  a  sacrament,  could  not 
be  repeated.  The  King  accordingly,  on  his  return  from 
Ireland,  delivered  the  ampulla  to  the  Archbishop  at 
Chester,  with  the  melancholy  presage  that  it  was  meant 
for  some  more  fortunate  King.2  A  less  questionable 
relic,  the  '  Lancaster '  sword,  was  now  first  introduced, 
being  that  which  Henry  had  worn  at  Ravenspur.:j  The 
pall  over  his  head  was  carried  by  the  four  Dukes  of 
York,  Surrey,  Aumale,  and  Gloucester,  more  or  less 
willingly,  according  to  their  politics.4  Both  Archbishops 
Queen  Joan,  joined  in  the  coronation  of  this  orthodox 

Feb.  26,  J 

1408.  '  Jacob.'  5     His  wife  Joan  was  crowned  alone, 

three  months  after  her  marriage.6 

14.  The  coronation  of  Henry  V.  is  the  only  one 
represented  in  the  structure  of  the  Abbey  itself.  The 
coronation  ceremony  is  sculptured  on  each  side  of  his 
April ''t'y V>  Chantry:  and  assuredly,  if  ever  there  was  a 
Sunday1,  coronation  which  carried  with  it  a  trans- 
forming virtue,  it  was  his.7  The  chief  inci- 
dent, however,  connected  with  it  at  the  time  was  the 
terrible  thunderstorm,  which  was  supposed  to  predict 
the  conflagration  of  Norwich,  Gloucester,  and  other 

1  Maskell,  iii.  p.  xvii.  5  Pauli,  iii.  3. 

2  Walsingham,  ii.  240.  6  Strickland,  iii.  78. 

3  Arch.  xx.  206.  ~  See  Chapter  V. 
*  Ibid.  207. 


THE   HOUSE  OF  YORK.  87 

cities   during  the  ensuing   summer,  the    heavy  snow1 
and  rain  during  the  ensuing  winter,  and  the  wars  2  and 
tumults  of  the  rest  of  his  reign.     His  Queen,  QWPn 
Catherine,  was  crowned  when  they  returned  p^"^16' 
from  France.3 

15.  The  coronation  of  Henry  VI.  was  the  first  of  a 
mere  child.     He  was  hut  nine  years  old,  and  Coronation 
sate  on  the  platform  in  the  Abbey,  '  beholding  viHNov.  6 
all  the  people  about  sadly  and  wisely.'4     It  14~9- 
was  on  the  6th  of  November,  corresponding,  as  was 
fancifully  thought,  to  the  Gth  of  December,5  his  birth- 
day, and  to  the  perfection  of  the  number  6  in  the  Sixth 
Henrv.    Perhaps,  in  consideration  of  his  tender  i>ec.  IT,  1431. 

Queen 

years,  was  omitted,  at  the  request  of  the  Tope,  Margaret. 
the  prayer  that  the  King  should  have  Peter's  i440- 
keys  and  Paul's  doctrine.6     Then  succeeded  his  corona- 
tion  at  Paris.      Years  afterwards   his  French  Queen, 
Margaret,  was  crowned  in  the  Abbey. 

16.  Of  the  coronation  of  Edward  IV.  there  is  nothing 
to  record  except  the  difficulty  about  the  day.7     It  was 
to  have  been  early   in  March  1461.     It  was  Coron.ltiou 
then,  in  consequence  of  the  siege  of  Carlisle,  iv^june? 
put  off  till  the  28th  of  June,8  '  the  Sunday  "'• U(il- 
after  Midsummer,' — the  day  of  one  other  and  happier 
coronation,  hereafter  to  be  noticed.      Hut  it  <Iline.,,, 
was  again  deferred  till  the  29th,(J  in  conse-  U01 
quence  of  the  singular  superstition  which  regarded  the 

1  Redman,  p.  G2.  -  Capgrave,  p.  125. 

3  For  the  feast  sec  Ilolinshod,  p.  579. 

4  Taylor,  ]>.  I  tj.'i. 

6  Cap<crave,  p.  140  ;  Hook,  v.  78. 
(;  D'lsraeli's  Cl,<,,-l,s  /.,  i.  27f>. 

7  The.  story  uf  his  coronation  at  York  is  a  mistake,  founded  on  an 
other  incident.     (Holinslied,  iii.  Old.) 

H   Hall.  p.  257.  '•'  Speed,  p.  85:5;   Sand  ford,  p.  404. 


88  THE  CORONATIONS  OF 

28th  of  any  month  to  be  a  repetition  of  Childermas 
Day,  always  considered  as  unlucky.1 

17.  All  was  prepared  for  the  coronation  of  Edward  V. 
—  wildfowl  for  the  banquet,  and  dresses  for  the  guests.2 

But  he,  alone  of  our  English  sovereigns,  passed 
June  2-2,  "  to  his  grave  '  uncrowned,  without  sceptre  or 

ball.'3  His  connection  with  the  Abbey  is 
through  his  birth  4  and  burial.5 

1 8.  As  Henry  IV.  compensated  for  the  defect  of  his 
title  by  the  superior  sanctity  of  his  coronation,  so  the 

like  defect  in  that  of  llichard  III.  was  sup- 

Cornnation 

i[iBi(juilde  plied  by  its  superior  magnificence.  '  Never,' 
it  was  said,  'had  such  an  one  been  seen.'0 
On  the  26th  of  June  he  rode  in  state  from  Baynard's 
Castle,  accompanied  by  0,000  gentlemen  from  the 
North,  to  Westminster  Hall;  and  'there  sate  in  the 
seat  royal,  and  called  before  him  the  judges  to  execute 
the  laws,  with  many  good  exhortations,  of  which  he 
followed  not  one.' 7  He  then  went  to  make  his  offer- 
ings at  the  shrine  of  the  Confessor.  The  Abbot  met 
him  at  the  door  with  St.  Edward's  sceptre.  '  The 
monks  sang  Te  Deum  with  a  faint  courage.'  He  then 
returned  to  the  Palace,  whence,  on  the  6th  of  July,  he 
went  with  the  usual  procession  to  the  Abbey.  The 
lofty  platform,  high  above  the  altar;  the  strange  ap- 
pearance of  King  and  Queen,  as  they  sate  stripped  from 
the  waist  upwards,  to  be  anointed — the  dukes  around 
the  King,  the  bishops  and  ladies  around  the  Queen  — 

1  See   Paston    Lei  tern,  i.  230,   2.35.      But,   according   to   the   White 
Book  of  the  Cinque  Ports  (Sin>sc.f  Arch.  Coll.,  xv.  180),  it  \v;is  on  the 
28th. 

2  Arch.  \.  387.  ;!  Speed,  p.  909. 

4  See  Chapter  V.  -r>  See  Chapter  TIT. 

c  Speed,  p.  933  ;  Hall ;  Grafton.  1  Strickland,  iii.  375. 


V.'AVA    'I  \\VS\\ 


Henry  VII.' s  Cbapel  (exterior}. 


THE  TUDORS.  89 

the  train  of  the  Queen  borne  by  Margaret  of  Bichmond l 
—  were  incidents  long  remembered. 

19.  With  all  her  prescience,  Margaret  could  hardly 
have  foreseen  that  within  three   years   her   own  son 
would  be  in  the  same  place ;  nor  Bourchier,  Cardinal 
Archbishop,  that  he  would  be   dragged   out,  coronation 
in  his  extreme  old  age,2  a  third  time  to   con-  vii.,eoct. 
secrate  the  doubtful  claims  of  a  new  dynasty. 
The   coronation  of   Henry  VII.   was,  however,  by  its 
mean  appearance,  a  striking  contrast  to  that  of  his  pre- 
decessor.3    This  may,  in  part,  have   been   caused  by 
Henry  VII.'s  well-known  parsimony.     But  it  probably 
also  arose  from  the  fact  that  his  real  title  to  the  throne 
rested  elsewhere.    '  His  marriage,'  says  Lord  Bacon, '  was 
with  greater  triumph  than  either  his  entry  or  his  coro- 
nation.'4    His   true   coronation    he   felt  to  have  been 
when,  on  the  field  of  Bosworth,  the  crown  of  liichard 
was  brought  by  Sir  Reginald  Bray  from  the  hawthorn- 
bush  to  Lord  Stanley,  who  placed  it  on  Henry's  head, 
on   the   height  still  called,  from  the    incident,  Crown 
Hill.5     As  such  it  appears  in  the  stained  glass  of  the 
chapel  built  for  him  in  the  Abbey,  by  the  very  same  Sir 
Reginald.     And  in  his  will  he  enjoined  that  his  image 
on    his    tomb    should    be    represented    as    holding   the 
crown, '  which  it  pleased  God  to  give  us  with  the  victory 
of  our  enemy  at  our  first  field.'  °     Elizabeth  c,,,.llin. 
of    York,    from    the    same    feeling,    was    not  KU"...'^^ 
crowned  till  two  years  afterwards.7    Two  cere-  x,,v"-25' 
monies,  however,  were  noticed   in  this  trun- 
cated inauguration.      Now  first,  in  the  archers  needed 

1  Hall,  p.  .T7f>;   Ilcnilds'  College  (E.rcer/itn  Ifis/or/n),  p.  .370. 

-  Hook,  v.  383.  ;!  Iliill,  ]>.  423. 

4  Bacon,  ffi-nry  VI T.,  p.  26.  r>   Mutton's  fiomrorl/i,  p.  132. 

6  Jesse's  Kir/Hinl  III.,  p.  2<)7.  '   Lelaml,  iv.  224;  Jesse,  p.  2<I'J. 


90  THE  CORONATIONS  OP 

to  guard  the  King's  dubious  claims,  appear  the  •  Yeo- 
men of  the  Guard.' 1     The  Bishops  of  Durham 

The  '  Yeo- 
men of  tlie     and  of  Bath  and  Wells,  who  had  both  been 

Guard.* 

officers  under  the  York  dynasty,  were  super- 
seded in  their  proper  functions  of  supporters  by  the 
Bishops  of  Exeter  and  Ely.2 

20.  The  splendour  of  the  coronation  of  Henry  VIII. 
and  Catherine  of  Arragon  was  such  as  might  have  been 
coronation  anticipated  from  their  position  and  character, 
of  Henry  Then  for  the  last  time,  in  the  person  of  War- 
sunday'  ham,  the  sanction  of  the  see  of  Rome  was  lent 

to  the  ministration  of  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury.3  During  its  rejoicings  Margaret  of  Rich- 
mond, the  foundress  of  the  Tudor  dynasty,  passed 
away  to  a  more  tranquil  world.4 

coronation         One  other  female  coronation  took  place  in 
Boieyif        this  reign,  that  of  Anne  Boleyn.     It  must  be 

told  at  length :- 

It  was  resolved  that  such  spots  and  blemishes  as  hung 
about  the  marriage  should  be  forgotten  in  the  splendour  of 
the  coronation.  If  there  was  scandal  in  the  condition  of  the 
Queen,  yet  under  another  aspect  that  condition  was  matter  of 
congratulation  to  a  people  so  eager  for  an  heir ;  and  Henry 
may  have,  thought  that  the  sight  for  the  first  time  in  public 
of  so  beautiful  a  creature,  surrounded  by  the  most  magnificent 
pageant  which  London  had  witnessed  since  the  unknown 
day  on  which  the  first  stone  of  it  was  laid,  and  bearing  in 
her  bosom  the  long-hoped-for  inheritor  of  the  English  crown, 
might  induce  a  chivalrous  nation  to  forget  what  it  was  the 

1  Roberts'  York  and  f,cincaster,  p.  472. 

2  Tliis  appears  from  'the  Device  for  the  Coronation  of  Henry  VII 
(p.  12),  published  by  the  Camdeii  Society  (No.  XXI.  1842). 

3  Hall,  p.  509. 

4  See  Chapter  III. 


THE  TUDORS.  91 

interest  of  no  loyal  subject  to  remember  longer,  and  to  ofl'et 
her  an  English  welcome  to  the  throne. 

In  anticipation  of  the  timely  close  of  the  proceedings  at 
Dunstable,  notice  had  been  given  in  the  city  early  in  May, 
that  preparations  should  be  made  for  the  coronation  on  the 
first  of  the  following  month.  Queen  Anne  was  at  Greenwich, 
but,  according  to  custom,  the  few  preceding  days  were  to  be 
spent  at  the  Tower  ;  and  on  the  19th  of  May,  she  was  con- 
ducted thither  in  state  by  the  Lord  Mayor  and  the  city  com- 
panies, with  one  of  those  splendid  exhibitions  upon  the 
water  which,  in  the  days  when  the  silver  Thames  deserved 
its  name,  and  the  sun  could  shine  down  upon  it  out  of  the 
blue  summer  sky,  were  spectacles  scarcely  rivalled  in  gorgeous- 
ness  by  the  world-famous  wedding  of  the  Adriatic. 

On  the  morning  of  the  31st  of  May,  the  families  of  the 
London  citizens  were  stirring  early  in  all  houses.  M.u.  .n 
From  Temple  Bar  to  the  Tower,  the  streets  were  1533- 
fresh-strewed  with  gravel,  the  foot  paths  were  railed  off  along 
the  whole  distance,  and  occupied  on  one  side  by  the  guilds, 
their  workmen  and  apprentices,  on  the  other  by  the  city  con- 
stables and  officials  in  their  gaudy  uniforms,  '  with  their 
staves  in  hand  for  to  cause  the  people  to  keep  good  room  and 
order.'  Cornhill  and  Graceclmrch  Street  had  dressed  their 
fronts  in  scarlet  and  crimson,  in  arras  and  tapestry,  and  the 
rich  carpet-work  from  Persia  and  the  East.  Cheapside,  to 
outshine  her  rivals,  was  draped  even  more  splendidly  in 
cloth  of  gold  and  tissue  and  velvet.  The  sherill's  were 
pacing  up  and  down  on  their  great  Flemish  horses,  hung  with 
liveries,  and  all  the  windows  were  thronged  with  ladies 
crowding  to  see  the  procession  pass.  At  length  the  Tower 
guns  opened,  tin?  grim  gates  rolled  back,  and  under  the  aivh- 
Avay,  in  the  bright  May  sunshine,  the  long  column  began 
slowly  to  defile.  All  these  rode  on  in  pairs.  ...  It  is  no 
easy  matter  to  picture  to  ourselves  the  bin/ing  trail  of  splen- 
dour which  in  such  a  pageant  must  have  drawn  along  the 
London  streets  —  those  streets  which  now  we  know  so  black 


02  THE  CORONATIONS  OF 

and  smoke-grimed,  themselves  then  radiant  with  masses  of 
colour,  gold  and  crimson  and  violet.  Yet  there  it  was,  and 
there  the  sun  could  shine  upon  it,  and  tens  of  thousands  of 
eyes  were  gazing  on  the  scene  out  of  the  crowded  lattices. 

Glorious  as  the  spectacle  was,  perhaps,  however,  it  passed 
unheeded.  Those  eyes  were  watching  all  for  another  object, 
which  now  drew  near.  In  an  open  space  behind  the  con- 
stable, there  was  seen  approaching  '  a  white  chariot,'  drawn 
by  two  palfreys  in  white  damask  which  swept  the  ground,  a 
golden  canopy  borne  above  it  making  music  with  silver  bells  ; 
and  in  the  chariot  sat  the  observed  of  all  observers,  the  beau- 
tiful occasion  of  all  this  glittering  homage  —  Fortune's  play- 
thing of  the  hour,  the  Queen  of  England  —  Queen  at  last  — 
borne  along  upon  the  waves  of  this  sea  of  glory,  breathing 
the  perfumed  incense  of  greatness  which  she  h^d  risked  her 
fair  name,  her  delicacy,  her  honour,  her  self-respect,  to  win  : 
and  she  had  won  it. 

There  she  sate,  dressed  in  white  tissue  robes,  her  fair  hair 
flowing  loose  over  her  shoulders,  and  her  temples  circled  with 
a  light  coronet  of  gold  and  diamouds  —  most  beaut  j  i'u  1  — 
loveliest  —  most  favoured,  perhaps,  as  she  seemed  at  that 
hour,  of  all  England's  daughters.  .  .  .  Fatal  gift  of  greatness ! 
so  dangerous  ever !  so  more  than  dangerous  in  those  tre- 
mendous times  when  the  fountains  are  broken  loose  of  the 
great  deeps  of  thought,  and  nations  are  in  the  throes  of  revo- 
lution —  when  ancient  order  and  law  and  tradition  are  split- 
ting in  the  social  earthquake ;  and  as  the  opposing  forces 
wrestle  to  and  fro,  those  unhappy  ones  who  stand  out  above 
the  crowd  become  the  symbols  of  the  struggle,  and  fall  the 
victims  of  its  alternating  fortunes  !  And  what  if  into  an 
unsteady  heart  and  brain,  intoxicated  with  splendour,  the 
outward  chaos  should  find  its  way,  converting  the  poor 
silly  soul  into  an  image  of  the  same  confusion  —  if  con- 
science should  be  deposed  from  her  high  place,  and  the 
Pandora-box  be  broken  loose  of  passions  and  sensualities 
and  follies;  and  at  length  there  be  nothing  left  of  all 


THE  TUDOHS.  93r 

which  man  or  woman  ought  to  value,  save  hope  of  God's 
forgiveness  ! 

Three  short  years  have  yet  to  pass,  and  again,  on  a  sum- 
mer morning,  Queen  Anne  Boleyu  will  leave  the  Tower  of 
London  —  not  radiant  then  with  beauty  on  a  gay  errand  of 
coronation,  but  a  poor  wandering  ghost,  on  a  sad  tragic  er- 
rand, from  which  she  will  never  more  return,  passing  away 
out  of  an  earth  where  she  may  stay  no  longer,  into  a  Presence 
where,  nevertheless,  we  know  that  all  is  well  —  for  all  of  us 
—  and  therefore  for  her.  .  .  . 

AYith  such  'pretty  conceits/  at  that  time  the  honest  tokens 
of  an  English  welcome,  the  new  Queen  was  received  by  the 
citizens  of  London.  The  King  was  not  with  her  throughout 
the  day,  nor  did  he  intend  being  with  her  in  any  part  of  the 
ceremony.  She  was  to  reign  without  a  rival,  the  undisputed 
sovereign  of  the  hour. 

Saturday  being  passed  in  showing  herself  to  the  people, 
she  retired  for  the  night  to  'the  King's  manor-house  at 
Westminster,'  where  she  slept.  On  the  following  .snn.iav 
morning,  between  eight  and  nine  o'clock,  she  re-  Ju"e  J. lo53- 
turned  to  the  Hall,  where  the  Lord  Mayor,  the  City  Council, 
and  the  Peers  were  again  assembled,  and  took  her  place  on 
the  lii^h  dais  at  the  top  of  the  stairs  under  the  cloth  of  state; 
while  the  Bishops,  the  Abbots,  and  the  monks  of  the  Abbey 
formed  in  the  area.  A  railed  way  had  .been  laid  with  car- 
pets across  Palace  Yard  and  the  Sanctuary  to  the  Abbey 
gates;  and  when  all  was  ready,  preceded  by  the  Peers  in 
their  robes  of  Parliament,  th ;  Knights  of  the  darter  in  the 
dress  of  the  Order,  she  swept  out  under  her  canopy,  the 
Bishops  and  the  monks  '  solemnly  singing.'  The  train  was 
borne  by  the  old  Duchess  of  Norfolk,  her  aunt,  the  Bishops 
of  London  and  AVinchester  on  either  side  'bearing  up  the 
lappcta  of  her  robe.'  The  Karl  of  Oxford  carried  the  crown 
on  its  cushion  immediately  before  her.  She  was  dressed  in 
purple  velvet  furred  with  iTiiiine,  her  hair  escaping  loose,  as 
she  usually  wore  it,  under  .1  wreath  of  diamonds. 


94  THE  CORONATIONS  OF 

On  entering  the  Abbey,  she  was  led  to  the  coronation 
chair,  where  she  sat  while  the  train  fell  into  their  places, 
and  the  preliminaries  of  the  ceremonial  were  despatched. 
Then  she  was  conducted  up  to  the  High  Altar,  and  anointed 
Queen  of  England ;  and  she  received  from  the  hands  of 
Cranmer,  fresh  come  in  haste  from  D unstable,  with  the  last 
words  of  his  sentence  upon  Catherine  scarcely  silent  upon 
his  lips,  the  golden  sceptre  and  St.  Edward's  crown. 

Did  any  twinge  of  remorse,  any  pang  of  painful  recollec- 
tion, pierce  at  that  moment  the  incense  of  glory  which  she 
was  inhaling?  Did  any  vision  flit  across  her  of  a  sad  mourn- 
ing tigure,  which  once  had  stood  where  she  was  standing, 
now  desolate,  neglected,  sinking  into  the  darkening  twilight 
of  a  life  cut  short  by  sorrow?  Who  can  tell?  At  such  a 
time,  that  iigure  would  have  weighed  heavily  upon  a  noble 
mind,  and  a  wise  mind  would  have  been  taught  by  the 
thought  of  it,  that  although  life  be  fleeting  as  a  dream,  it  is 
long  enough  to  experience  strange  vicissitudes  of  fortune. 
But  Anne  Boleyn  was  not  noble  and  was  not  wise,  —  too 
probably  she  felt  nothing  but  the  delicious,  all-absorbing, 
all-intoxicating  present ;  and  if  that  plain  suffering  face  pre- 
sented itself  to  her  memory  at  all,  we  may  fear  that  it  was 
rather  as  a  foil  to  her  own  surpassing  loveliness.  Two  years 
later  she  was  able  to  exult  over  Catherine's  death  ;  she  is  not 
likely  to  have  thought  of  her  with  gentler  feelings  in  the 
first  glow  and  flush  of  triumph.1 

The  '  three  gentlemen'  who  met  in  '  a  street  in  West- 
minster '  in  the  opening  of  the  4th  Act  of  Shakspeare's 
'  Henry  VIII.'  are  the  lively  representatives,  so  to  speak, 
of  the  multitudes  who  since  have  '  taken  their  stand 
here,'  to  behold  the  pageant  of  coronations :  — 

God  save  you,  sir !     Where  have  you  been  broiling? 
3'/  Cent.     Among  the  crowd  i'  the  Abbey  .    .    . 
2d  Gent.     You  saw  the  ceremony  V 

1  Froude,  i.  456-58. 


THE   TUDORS.  95 

3d  Gent,    That  I  did. 

1st  Gent.    How  was  it? 

3d  Gent.    Well  worth  the  seeing. 

2(7  Gent.    Good  sir,  speak  it  to  us. 

3d  Gent.    As  well  as  I  am  able.     The  rich  stream 
Of  lords  and  ladies,  having  brought  the  Queen 
To  a  prepared  place  in  the  Choir,  fell  off 
A  distance  from  her ;  while  her  Grace  sat  down 
To  rest  a  while,  some  half  an  hour  or  so, 
In  a  rich  chair  of  state,  opposing  freely 
The  beauty  of  her  person  to  the  people. 
Believe  me,  sir,  she  is  the  goodliest  woman 
That  ever  lay  by  man.  .  .  .  Such  joy 
I  never  saw  before.  .  .  . 

At  length  her  Grace  rose,  and  with  modest  paces 
Came  to  the  altar ;  where  she  kneel'd  and,  saintlike, 
Cast  her  fair  eyes  to  heaven,  and  pray'd  devoutly. 
...  So  she  parted, 

And  with  the  same  full  state  paced  back  again 
To  York-place,  where  the  feast  is  held.1 

After  Anne  ]'oleyn's  death,  none  of  Henry's  Queens 
were  crowned.  Jane  Seymour  would  have  been  but 
for  the  plague,  which  raged  '  in  the  Abbey  itself.' 1 

21.  The  design  which  had  been   conceived  by  the 
Second  Henry,  for  securing  the  succession  by  the  cor- 
onation  of   his  eldest  son  before  his  death,  Col.on.lti(m 
also,  for  like  reasons,  took  possession  of  the  viE'i->b"'>o 
mind    of    Henry    VIII.       The    preparations  I'iesaty, 
for  Edward  VI. 's   inauguration   were  in  pro- 
gress at  the  moment  of  his  father's  death :   in  fact,  it 
took  place  within  the  next  month.     The  incidents  in 
the   procession   from   the    Tower    here    first  assume   a 
characteristic  form.3     An  Arragonese  sailor  capered  on 

1  Ifmry  VIIL,  Act  iv.  so.  1. 

2  Henry  VIII.'s  State  J'd/icrs  (i.  400). 

3  Ilolinsliod  ;    Tavlor,  p.    28f> ;    Leland,   iv.    .'$21  ;    Prynnc's    Signal 
Loyalty,  part  ii.  p.  250. 


96  THE   CORONATIONS   OF 

a  tight-rope  down  from  the  battlements  of  St.  Paul's  to 
a  window  at  the  Dean's  Gate,  which  delighted  the  hoy- 
King.  Logic,  Arithmetic,  and  other  sciences  greeted 
the  precocious  child  on  his  advance.  One  or  two  ves- 
tiges of  the  fading  past  crossed  his  road.  '  An  old  man 
in  a  chair,  with  crown  and  sceptre,  represented  the 
state  of  King  Edward  the  Confessor.  St.  George  would 
have  spoken,  hut  that  his  Grace  made  such  speed  that 
for  lack  of  time  he  could  not.' 1  On  his  arrival  at  the 
Abbey,  he  found  it,  for  the  first  time,  transformed  into 
a  '  cathedral.' 2  He  was  met  not  by  Abbot  or  Dean, 
but  by  the  then  Bishop  of  Westminster,  Thirl  by.  The 
King's  godfather,  Archbishop  Cranmer,  officiated ;  and 
the  changes  of  the  service,  which  was  still  that  of  the 
Mass  of  the  Church  of  Home,  were  most  significant. 
It  was  greatly  abridged,  partly  'for  the  tedious  length 
of  the  same,'  and  '  the  tender  age  '  of  the  King  —  partly 
for  '  that  many  points  of  the  same  were  such  as,  by  the 
laws  of  the  nation,  were  not  allowable.'  Instead  of  the 
ancient  form  of  election,  the  Archbishop  presented  the 
young  Prince  as  'rightful  and  undoubted  inheritor.'3 
The  consent  of  the  people  was  only  asked  to  the  cere- 
mony of  the  coronation.  The  unction  was  performed 
with  unusual  care.  '  My  Lord  of  Canterbury  kneeling 
on  his  knees,  and  the  King  lying  prostrate  upon  the 
altar,  anointed  his  back.'  The  coronation  itself  was 
peculiar.  'My  Lord  Protector,  the  Duke  of  Somerset, 
held  the  crown  in  his  hand  for  a  certain  space,'  and  it 
was  set  on  the  King's  head  by  those  two,  the  Duke  and 
the  Archbishop.  For  the  first  time  the  Bible  was  pre- 
sented to  the  Sovereign,4  an  act  which  may  perhaps 

1  Lelaml,  iv.  324.  2  See  Chapter  VI, 

3  Bnrnct,  Coll.  Rec.,  part  ii.  book  i.  No.  4. 

4  Camclen's  Remains,  371. 


THE   TUDORS.  97 

have  suggested  to  the  young  King  the  substitution, 
which  he  had  all  but  effected,1  of  the  Bible  for  St.  George 

o 

in  the  insignia  of  the  Order  of  the  Gaiter.  There  was 
no  sermon ;  but  the  2  short  address  of  Craniner,  consid- 
ering the  punctiliousness  with  which  the  ceremony  had 
been  performed,  and  the  importance  of  his  position  as 
the  Father  of  the  Informed  Church  of  England,  is  per- 
haps the  boldest  and  most  pregnant  utterance  ever  de- 
livered in  the  Abbey.  He  warned  the  young  Archbishop 
King  against  confounding  orthodoxy  with  address.'  " 
morality.  He  insisted  on  the  supremacy  of  the  royal 
authority  over  both  the  Bishops  of  liome  and  the 
Bishops  of  Canterbury. 

The  wiser  sort  will  look  to  their  claws,  and  clip  them. 
He  pointed  out 

in  what  respect  the  solemn  rites  of  coronation  have  their 
ends  and  utility,  yet  neither  direct  force  nor  necessity  ;  they 
be  good  admonitions  to  put  kings  in  mind  of  their  duty  to 
God,  but  no  iucreasement  of  their  dignity  :  for  they  be  God's 
anointed  —  not  in  respect  of  the  oil  which  the  bishop  useth, 
but  in  consideration  of  their  power,  which  is  ordained  ;  ot 
the  sword,  which  is  authorised  ;  of  their  persons,  which  are 
elected  of  God,  and  endued  with  the.  gifts  of  His  Spirit,  for 
the  better  ruling  and  guiding  of  His  people.  The  oil,  if 
added,  is  but  a  ceremony  :  if  it  be  wanting,  that  king  is  yet 
a  perfect  monarch  notwithstanding,  and  Clod's  anointed,  as 
well  as  if  he  was  inoiled.  Xow  for  the  person  or  bishop 
that  doth  anoint  a  king,  it  is  proper  to  be  done;  by  the  chief- 
est.  Uut  if  they  cannot,  or  will  not,  any  bishop  may  perform 
this  ceremony.  —  He  described  what  <  «od  requires  at  (lie 

1  Anstis's  On/iToft/if  Carter,  i.  4.'!8.     For  tlic  story  of  th<>  King's 
remark  on  tlic  Bible,  in  'Chapters'  (p.  174),  I  can  find  no  authority. 

-  Strypc's  Memorial*  of  Cr<i>im<r,\.   ~2M ;    Ilarlcian    MS.  -J.'IOS.     Its 
genuineness  is  contested  in  Hook's  Lins  of  llu-  Archbishops,  ii.  ii'!2. 
vol..  i  —  7 


98  THE   CORONATIONS  OF 

hands  of  kings  and  rulers  —  that  is,  religion  and  virtue. 
Therefore  not  from  the  Bishop  of  Rome,  but  as  a  messenger 
from  my  Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  I  shall  most  humbly  admon- 
ish your  Royal  Majesty  what  things  your  Highness  is  to 
perform. 

He  required  the  King, 

like  Josiah,  to  see  God  truly  worshipped,  and  idolatry  de- 
stroyed ;  to  reward  virtue,  to  revenge  sin,  to  justify  the 
innocent,  to  relieve  the  poor,  to  procure  peace,  to  repress 
violence,  and  to  execute  justice  throughout  your  realms. 

22.  Mary's  coronation  was  stamped  with  all  the 
strange  vicissitudes  of  her  accession.  Now 
first  rose  into  view  the  difficulties,  which  in 

various  forms    have   reappeared   since,  respecting  the 

Coronation  Oath. 

The  Council  proposed  to  bind  the  Queen,  by  an  especial 
clause,  to  maintain  the  independence  of  the  English  Church  ; 
and  she,  on  the  other  hand,  was  meditating  how  she  could 
introduce  an  adjective  sub  silentiu,  and  intended  to  swear 
only  that  she  would  observe  the  'just'  laws  and  constitu- 
tions. But  these  grounds  could  not  be  avowed. 

The  Queen  was  told  that  her  passage  through  the  streets 

would  be  unsafe  until  her  accession  had  been  sanctioned  by 

Parliament,  and  the  Act  repealed  by  which  she  was  illegiti- 

matised.     With  Paget's  help  she  faced  down  these 

The  Pro-       objections,  and  declared  that  she  would  be  crowned 

cession, 

Sept.  30,  at  once  ;  she  appointed  the  1st  of  October  for  the 
ceremony ;  on  the  28th  she  sent  for  the  Council, 
to  attempt  an  appeal  to  their  generosity.  She  spoke  to  them 
at  length  of  her  past  life  and  sufferings,  of  the  conspiracy  to 
set  her  aside,  and  of  the  wonderful  Providence  which  had 
preserved  her  and  raised  her  to  the  throne  :  her  only  desire, 
she  said,  was  to  do  her  duty  to  God  and  to  her  subjects ; 
and  she  hoped  (turning,  as  she  spoke,  pointedly  to  Gardiner) 


THE   TUUORS.  99 

that  they  would  not  forget  their  loyalty,  and  would  stand  by 
her  in  her  extreme  necessity.  Observing  them  hesitate,  she 
cried,  'My  Lords,  on  my  knees  I  implore  you!'  —  and  flung 
herself  on  the  ground  at  their  feet. 

The  most  skilful  acting  could  not  have  served  Mary's  pur- 
pose better  than  this  outburst  of  natural  emotion  :  the  spec- 
tacle of  their  kneeling  sovereign  overcame  for  a  time  the 
scheming  passions  of  her  ministers  ;  they  were  affected,  burst 
into  tears,  and  withdrew  their  opposition  to  her  wishes. 

On  the  30th,  the  procession  from  the  Tower  to  Westmin- 
ster through  tlie  streets  was  safely  accomplished.  The  retin- 
ues of  the  Lords  protected  the  Queen  from  insult,  and  London 
put  on  its  usual  outward  signs  of  rejoicing  ;  St.  Paul's  spire 
was  rigged  with  yards  like  a  ship's  mast  [an  adventurous 
Dutchman  outdoing  the  Spaniard  at  Edward  Yl.'s  coronation, 
and  sitting  astride  on  the  weathercock,  five  hundred  feet  in  the 
air].1  The  Hot  Gospeller,  half-recovered  from  his  gaol-fever, 
got  out  of  bed  to  see  the  spectacle,  and  took  his  station  at  the 
west  end  of  St.  Paul's.  The  procession  passed  so  close  as 
almost  to  touch  him,  and  one  of  the  train,  seeing  him  muilled 
up,  and  looking  more  dead  than  alive,  said,  '  There,  is  one 
that  loveth  Her  Majesty  well,  to  come  out  in  such  condition.' 
The  Queen  turned  her  head  and  looked  at  him.  To  hear 
that  any  one  of  her  subjects  loved  her  just  then  was  too 
welcome  to  be  overlooked.''2 

On  the  next  day  the  ceremony  in  the    Abbey  was 
performed  without  fresh  burdens  being  laid  upon  Mary's 
conscience.    The  three  chief  prelates,  the  Arch-  T]ii.  (,(iro 
bishops   of    Canterbury   and    York,   and    the  ;'•","",'' 
Bishop    of    London,    were    prisoners    in    the   ' 
Tower.     Gardiner,  therefore,  as   Bishop  of  Winchester, 
officiated,  'without  any  express  right  or  precedent,' as 
Archbishop  Parker  afterwards  indignantly  wrote.3    The 

1   Tavlnr.  ]..  'JS7:    Holinshetl.  3  l><-  -I"/,  lint.  J>.  ">01>. 

'-'  Frouile,  vi.  100,  101. 


100  THE   CORONATIONS   OF 

sermon  was  by  Bishop  Day,  who  had  preached  at  her 
brother's  funeral.1  She  had  been  alarmed  lest  Henry 
IV.'s  holy  oil  should  have  lost  its  efficacy  through  the 
interdict;  and,  accordingly,  a  fresh  supply  was  sent 
through  the  Imperial  Ambassador,  blessed  by  the 
Bishop  of  Arras.  She  had  also  feared  lest  even  St. 
Edward's  Chair  had  been  polluted,  by  having  been  the 
seat  of  her  Protestant  brother  ;  and  accordingly,  though 
it  is  expressly  stated  to  have  been  brought  out,  another 
chair  was  sent  by  the  Pope,  in  which  she  sate,  and 
which  is  now  said  to  be  in  the  cathedral  of  Winches- 
ter.2 Anne  of  Cleves  was  present,  and  also  Elizabeth. 
The  Princess  complained  to  the  French  Ambassador  of 
the  weight  of  her  coronet.  '  Have  patience,'  said 
Noailles,  '  and  before  long  you  will  exchange  it  for  a 
crown.'  3 

23.  That  time  soon  arrived.  The  coronation  of 
Elizabeth,  like  that  of  her  sister,  had  its  own  special 
Elizabeth.  characteristics.  The  day  (January  15)  was 
fixed  in  deference  to  her  astrologer,  Dee,  who  pro- 
nounced it  a  day  of  good  luck  ;  and  it  was  long  observed 
as  an  anniversary  in  the  Abbey.4  The  procession  was 
on  the  day  before. 

The  Pro-  As  she  passed  out  to  her  carriage  under  the  gates 

Jan.  H j         of  the  Tower,  fraught  to  her  with  such  stern  re- 
membrances, she  stood  still,  looked  up  to  heaven, 
and  said  — 

'  0  Lord,  Almighty  and  Everlasting  God,  I  give  Thee  most 
humble  thanks,  that  Thou  hast  been  so  merciful  unto  me  as 

1  Burnet,  If  int.  U<-f.  ii.  251. 

2  1'laiK'lio,  p.  CO.  — A  reasonable  donht  is  expressed  (in  Cent.  Hfog. 
1838,  p.  012)  whether  the  Winchester  chair  is  not  that  which  served 
for  her  marriage. 

*  Fronde,  vi.  102.  *  See  Chapter  VI. 


THE   TUDORS.  101 

to  spare  ine  to  behold  this  joyful  day  ;  and  I  acknowledge 
that  Thou  hast  dealt  wonderfully  and  mercifully  with  me. 
As  Thou  didst  with  Thy  servant  Daniel  the  prophet,  whom 
Thou  deliveredst  out  of  the  den,  from  the  cruelty  of  the  rag- 
ing lions,  even  so  was  I  overwhelmed,  and  only  by  Thee 
delivered.  To  Thee,  therefore,  only  be  thanks,  honour,  and 
praise  for  ever.  Amen/ 

She  then  took  her  seat,  and  passed  on  —  passed  on  through 
thronged  streets  and  crowded  balconies,  amidst  a  people  to 
whom  her  accession  was  as  the  rising  of  the  sun.  Away  in 
the  country  the  Protestants  were  few  and  the  Catholics  many. 
But  the  Londoners  were  the  first-born  of  the  Reformation, 
whom  the  lurid  fires  of  Sniithh'eld  had  worked  only  into 
fiercer  convictions.  The  aldermen  wept  for  joy  as  she  went 
by.  Groups  of  children  waited  for  her  with  their  little  songs 
at  the  crosses  and  conduits.  Poor  women,  though  it  was 
midwinter,  Hung  nosegays  into  her  lap.  In  Cheapside  the 
Corporation  presented  her  with  an  English  Bible.  She  kissed 
it,  '  thanking  the  City  for  their  goodly  gift,'  and  saying,  '  she 
would  diligently  read  therein.'  One  of  the  crowd,  recollect- 
ing who  first  gave  the  Bible  to  England,  exclaimed,  '  Remem- 
ber old  King  Harry  the  Eighth  !  '  and  a  gleam  of  light  passed 
over  Elizabeth's  face  —  'a  natural  child,'  says  Holinshed,  '  who 
at  the  very  remembrance  of  her  father's  name  took  so  great  a 
joy,  that  all  men  may  well  think  that  as  she  rejoiced  at  his 
name  whom  the  realm  doth  still  hold  of  so  worthy  memory, 
so  in  her  doings  she  will  resemble  the  same.' 1 

The  pageants  in   the   City  were  partly  historical  — 
partly  theological :  her  grandparents  and  her  parents  ; 
the  eight  latitudes;  Time  with  his  daughter  Truth  — 
'a   seemly   and    meet    personage    richly    apparelled    in 
Parliament  robes '-- Deborah,  'the  judge  and  restorer 
of  the  House  of    Israel.'      On    Temple    liar,  for    once 

1  F rondo,  vii.  :ss,  :!0. 


102  THE   CORONATIONS   OF 

deserting  tlieir  stations  at  Guildhall,  Gog  and  Magog 
stood,  with  hands  joined  over  the  gate.  The  Queen 
thanked  her  citizens,  and  assured  them  that  she  would 
'stand  tlieir  good  Queen.'  It  has  been  truly  remarked 
that  the  increased  seriousness  of  the  time  is  shown  in 
the  contrast  between  these  grave  Biblical  figures  and 
the  light  classical  imagery  of  the  pageants  that  wit- 
nessed the  passage  of  her  mother.1 

At  the  ceremony  in  the  Abbey,  on  the  following  day, 
the  Coronation  Mass  was  celebrated,  and  the  Abbot  of 
The  coro-  Westminster  took  his  part  in  the  service  for 
Sunday,  the  last  time.  Thus  far  Elizabeth's  con- 

Jan,  15, 

iou«.  formity  to  the  ancient  Ritual  was  complete. 

But  the  coming  changes  made  themselves  felt.  The 
Litany  was  read  in  English ;  the  Gospel  and  Epistle, 
still  more  characteristically  representing  her  double 
ecclesiastical  position,  in  Latin  and  English.  On  these 
grounds,  and  from  an  unwillingness  to  acknowledge 
her  disputed  succession,  the  whole  Bench  of  Bishops, 
with  one  exception,  were  absent.2  The  see  of  Canter- 
bury was  vacant.  The  Archbishop  of  York  demurred 
to  the  English  Litany.  The  Bishop  of  London,  the 
proper  representative  of  the  Primate  on  these  occasions, 
was  in  prison.  But  his  robes  were  borrowed ;  and 
Oglethorpe,  Bishop  of  Carlisle,  Dean  of  the  Chapel 
Royal,  consented  to  act  for  him,  but,  it  was  believed, 
afterwards  died  of  remorse.3  '  The  oil  was  grease,  and 
smelt  ill.'  Still  the  ceremony  wras  completed,  and  she 
was  elected  and  '  proclaimed '  by  the  singular  but  ex- 

1  Aikin's  Elizabeth,  i.  251. 

2  Ibid.  i.  252  ;  Nichols'  Prorjressrs,  \.  30;  Taylor,  p.  287.     Machyn 
(Jan.  15,  1559)  speaks  of  the  B/siiops,  mitred  and  in  scarlet,  singing 
Salve  fast  a  dies.     But  this  must  be  a  mistake. 

3  Buruet,  ii.  pt.  i.  p.  C85. 


THE  STUARTS.  103 

pressive  title  — '  Empress  from  the  Orcade  Isles  unto 
the  Mountains  Pyrenee.' 1 

24.  The   day  of  the  coronation  of   James  I.  - —  first 
king  of  'Great  Britain'  —  was  chosen  from  his  name- 
sake the  Apostle.     The  procession  from  the  coronation 
Tower  was  abandoned,  in  consequence  of  the 
plague  ;  though  Ben  Jonson,   who  had  been  st.  jmmVs 

Day,  July 

employed  by  the  city  to  prepare  the  pageants,  25,  NW. 
published  his  account  of  what  they  would  have  been.2 
The  King  and  Queen  went  straight  from  the  Palace  to 
the  Abbey,  Anne  'with  her  hair  down  hanging.'3  The 
presence  of  all  the  Bishops,  contrasted  with  the  scanty 
attendance  at  the  inauguration  of  Elizabeth,  indicates 
that  this  was  the  first  coronation  celebrated  by  the 
Anglican  Reformed  Church.  Andrews  was  Dean  ; 
Whitgift  was  Archbishop.  Bilson  preached  the  ser- 
mon.4 When  James  sat  on  the  Stone  of  Scone,5  the 
first  King  of  Great  Britain,  the  Scots  believed  the 
ancient  prediction  to  have  been  at  last  fulfilled.  '1  he 
only  drawback  in  the  ceremonial  was  the  refusal  of 
Anne  to  take  the  sacrament :  '  she  had  changed  her 
Lutheran  religion  once  before,'  for  the  Presbyterian 
forms  of  Scotland,  and  that  was  enough.6 

Several  significant  changes  were  made  in  the  Ritual, 
indicative  of  the  grasping  tendency  of  the  Stuart  kings, 
which  afterwards  were  attributed  to  Laud,  on  the  erron- 
eous supposition  that  he  had  made  the  change  for 

1  Planchc,  p.  47  ;  Strickland,  vi.  105,  107. 

2  Aikin's  James  /.,]>.  151.      They  took  place    some   months    later, 
(Gtnt.  MHIJ.  18.38,  p.  180.) 

3  Nichols'  Prof/resses,  i.  .377  ;  Birch,  Slate  Pajirrs,  ii.  504  ;  Strickland, 
v.  105. 

4  Oti  TCoin.  xiii.  1.  5  Spend,  p.  888.     See  Appendix. 

6  Chapters,  p.  10.1.  The  real  reason  probably  was  her  secret  adher- 
ence to  the  Church  of  Koine.  Mil  man 'si  Essays,  p.  230. 


104  THE   CORONATIONS  OF 

Charles  I.  For  the  word  '  elect,'  was  substituted  '  con- 
secrate;' and  for  'the  commons,'  'the  commonalty  of 
your  kingdom' 1  And  to  the  '  laws  which  the  King 
promised  to  observe  '  were  added  the  words  '  agreeable 
to  the  King's  prerogative.' 

25.  The  coronation  of  Charles  I.  was  filled,  both  to 
the  wise  and  to  the  superstitious,  with  omens  of  coming 
coronation  disaster.  As  in  the  time  of  his  father,  there 
or  cha.ies  i.  was  no  procession,  nominally  because  of  the 
plague  ; 2  but  really,  it  was  suspected,  because  of  the  wish 
of '  Baby  Charles '  to  save  the  money  for  the  Spanish  war, 
without  the  need  of  going  to  Parliament  for  supplies. 
Sir  liobert  Cotton  was  waiting  at  the  stairs  leading  to  his 
Feast  of  tiie  house,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Palace,  to 
i.vu!'!ratlon'  present  him  with  the  ancient  Gospels, '  on  which 
for  divers  hundred  years  together  the  Kings  of 
England  had  solemnly  taken  their  coronation  oaths. 
P>ut  the  royal  barge  'balked  those  steps,'  and  'was  run 
aground  at  the  Parliament  stairs.'  Sir  Robert  was  glad 
that  the  inconvenient  precedent  of  landing  at  his  stairs 
was  missed ;  but  it  was  believed  that  '  the  Duke  of 
Buckingham  had  prevented  that  act  of  grace  being  done 
him.'3  There  was  a  feud  raging  within  the  Chapter 
of  Westminster  —  an  echo  of  the  larger  struggles  with- 
out —  which  was  apparent  as  soon  as  the  King  entered 
the  doors  of  the  Abbey.  Williams,  the  Dean,  was  in 
disgrace,  and  had  in  vain  entreated  Buckingham  to  lie 
allowed  to  officiate.  But  his  rival,  Laud,  carried  the 
day  through  that  potent  favourite,  and,  as  prebendary, 

1  Lawson's  Life  of  Land,  i.  297-.°>05. 

2  'Though  the  infectious  air  of  London  had  lately  boon  corrected 
with   a   sharp   winter,   yet  ...  a  suspicion   of   danger   did    remain.' 
(Fuller's  Clmrcl.  I  list.  A.  n.  1020.) 

3  Ellis's  Collection  of  Omjiuul  Letters,  i.  214;  Gent,  ^fag.  1838,  voL 
ix.  p.  473. 


THE   STUARTS.  105 

took  the  place  of  his  hated  superior.1  The  coronations 
of  the  Tudor  sovereigns  have  been  according2  to  the 
Roman  Pontifical,  and  that  of  James  I.  having  been 
prepared  in  haste,  Charles  issued  a  commission,  in 
which  Laud  took  the  chief  part,  to  draw  up  a  more 
purely  Anglican  Service.  The  alterations,  however, 
rather  pointed  in  another  direction.  The  unction  was 
to  be  made  in  the  form  of  a  cross.  Laud  consecrated 
the  oil  on  the  altar.3  The  clergy  were  especially  named 
as  coming  '  nearer  to  the  altar  than  others.'  The  King 
vouchsafed  to  kiss  the  two  chief  officiating  Prelates. 
On  the  altar  was  planted  an  ancient  crucifix  from  the 
Regalia.  King  Edward's  ivory  comb  was  brought  out, 

0  o  */  o 

and  when  the  King  sate  down  in  the  royal  chair,  '  he 
called  for  the  comb  that  he  might  see  it.'  At  the  same 
time  the  Royal  Prerogative  was  exalted  by  the  intro- 
duction of  the  prayer  (omitted  since  the  time  of  Henry 
VT.)  that  the  King  might  have  '  Peter's  keys  and  Paul's 
doctrine.' 4  The  words  '  to  the  people '  were  said  to 
have  been  left  out  in  the  oath.5  Whether  by  accident, 
or  from  its  being  the  proper  colour  for  the  day  (the  Feast 
of  the  Purification),  or  '  to  declare  the  virgin  purity 
with  which  he  came  to  be  espoused  to  his  kingdom, 
Charles  changed  the  usual  purple  velvet  robe  fur  one 
of  white  satin,  which  the  spectators,  at  the  time  or 
afterwards,  regarded  as  ominous  of  his  being  led  out  a.s 
a  victim,  or  as  having  drawn  upon  him  the  misfortunes 

1  It  was  loft  to  AYilliains's  choice  to  name  a  ]»rol>on<lary.     Mo  could 
not  pass  ovor  Laud  (as  Bishop  of  St.  David's),  and  lie  would  not  nomi- 
nate him.     Ho  tlioroforo  presented  a  complete  list,  and  loft  to  tho  Kinij 
tochooso.     (Fuller's  C/mrrli   ///>/.  A.  i>.  10:20. )     Seo  Chapter  VI. 

-   Hoylin's  Luiiil.  p.  1  .'{.">. 

8  State  Papers,  Kelt.  L>.  102.V20.      See  p.  40. 

4  Hoylin's  /.mill,  p.  L'iO. 

5  <  Mdmixon,  i.  S-J. 


106  THE   CORONATIONS  OF 

predicted  in  ancient  days  for  the  '  White  King.' l  '  The 
left  wing  of  the  dove,  the  mark  of  the  Confessor's 
halcyon  days,  was  broken  on  the  sceptre  staff — by 
what  casualty  God  himself  knows.  The  King  sent  for 
Mr.  Acton,  then  his  goldsmith,  commanding  him  that 
the  ring-stone  should  be  set  in  again.  The  goldsmith 
replied  that  it  was  impossible  to  be  done  so  fairly  but 
that  some  mark  would  remain  thereof.  The  King,  in 
some  passion,  returned,  "If  you  will  not  do  it,  another 
shall."  Thereupon  Mr.  Acton  returned  and  got  another 
dove  of  gold  to  be  artificially  set  in ;  whereat  his  Maj- 
esty was  well  contented,  as  making  no  discovery  thereof.' 
It  was  the  first  infringement  on  the  old  Regalia.  The 
text  was,  as  if  for  a  funeral  sermon,  '  I  will  give  thee  a 
crown  of  life,'  by  Se.nhouse,  Bishop  of  Carlisle,  who  died 
shortly  after  of  black  jaundice,  '  a  disease  which  hangs 
the  face  with  mourning  as  against  its  burial.' 2  During 
the  solemnity  an  earthquake  was  felt,  which  Baxter 
long  remembered,  '  being  a  boy  at  school  at  the  time, 
and  having  leave  to  play.  Tt  was  about  two  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon,  and  did  affright  the  boys  and  all  in 
the  neighbourhood.' 3 

The  whole  ceremonial  is  detailed  by  Fuller  as  com- 
ing '  within  (if  not  the  park  and  pale)  the  purlieus  of 
ecclesiastical  history.'  But  he  adds,  with  a  touching 
pathos :  '  I  have  insisted  the  longer  on  this  subject, 
moved  thereat  by  this  consideration  —  that  if  it  be 
the  last  solemnity  performed  on  an  English  King  in 
this  land,  posterity  will  conceive  my  pains  well  be- 
stowed, because  on  the  last.  But,  if  hereafter  Divine 
Providence  shall  assign  England  another  King,  though 

1  Oldmixon,  i.  82 ;  Palgrave's  Normandy,  in.  880 ;  Ileyliu's  Laud, 
p.  138. 

2  Fuller's  Church  Hist.  A.D.  1626.  3  Baxter's  Life,  p.  2. 


THE   STUARTS.  107 

the  transactions  herein  be  not  wholly  precedented, 
something  of  state  may  be  chosen  out  grateful  for 
imitation.' 1 

26.  At  the  time  when  Fuller  wrote  these  words,  it 
did  indeed  seem  as  if  Charles  I.'s  coronation  would  be 
the  last.     All  its  disastrous  omens  had  been  verified, 
and   a  new  dynasty  seemed  firmly  established  on  the 
throne  of   this  realm.     The  Eegalia  were  gone.2     Yet 
even  then  there  was  a  semblance  preserved  of 

,  .  T^ .          ,         AT          .  ,  «  i  i  Installation 

the  ancient  Kitual.     JNot  in  the  Abbey,  but  ..nniver 
in    the   adjacent   Hall,  his    Highness    Oliver  .inne^c, ' 
Cromwell  was  '  installed '  as  Lord  Protector  ; 
and  out  of  the  Abbey  was  brought,  for  that  one  and 
only  time,  '  the  Chair  of  Scotland,'  and  on  it,  '  under  a 
prince-like  canopy  of  state,'  as  a  successor  of    Fergus 
and  Kenneth,  of   Edward    I.  and  of    James  I.,  Oliver 
was    solemnly    enthroned.     The    P>ible    was    presented 
as  in  the  time  of  Edward  VI. :  '  a  book  of  books,'  which 
'  doth  contain  both    precepts   and    examples    for    good 
government;'  '  the  book  of  life,  which,  in  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, shows  Christum  velatum  ;  in  the  New,  Chrixhnii 
r.evelatum.' 3 

27.  The  coronation   of  Charles  IT.4   was   celebrated 
with  all  the   splendour  which  the  enthusiasm   of  the 

1  Fuller's  C/nin-h  Hint.  A.  P.  1020.  —  Charles  T.  was  crowned  King 
of  Scotland  at  Edinburgh,  by  Spottiswood,  Archbishop  of  St.  Andrews. 
(See  Kllis's  Lr-ttcrx,  iii.  iS.'J  ;  D'lsraeli's  t'/i<ir/<s  I.,  \.  1>7G.) 

-  See  Chapters  V.  and  VI. 

3  Korster's  Statesmen  of  the  CommonuvHltli,  v.  -4-1,  42'5. 

4  He  had  already  been  crowned    King  of    Scotland,  in  the    parish 
church  of  Scone,  on  January  1,  Hi;")!.     The  sermon   was  preached   by 
the    Moderator  of  the  (ieucral    Assembly.     The  text,   was  -2  Kings  \i. 
12-17.     After  the  sermon  the   King  swore,  with   his  usual   facility,  to 
carry  out  the  Solemn    League  and  Covenant.     The  crown  was  placed 
on   his  head   hv  the  Marquis  of   Argyle,  who  was  executed  after  the- 
Restoration. 


108  THE   CORONATIONS  OF 

Eestoration  could  provide.  It  is  the  first  of  which  an 
coronation  elaborate  pictorial  representation  remains.1 

of  Charles  _ . 

ii.  '  Ihe  ceremony  or  the  Kings  coronation  was 

done  with  the  greatest  solemnity  and  glory,'  says  Clar- 
endon, '  that  ever  any  had  been  seen  in  that  kingdom.' 
The  utmost  care  was  taken  to  examine  '  the  records  and 
old  formularies,'  and  to  ascertain  the  '  claims  to  privi- 
leges and  precedency,'  in  order  '  to  discredit  and  dis- 
countenance the  novelties  with  which  the  Kingdom 
had  been  so  much  intoxicated  for  so  many  years  to- 
gether.' 2 

The,  Proces-  The  procession  from  the  Tower  was  revived. 
22,1601.  Pepys,  of  course,  was  there  to  see  : 

Up  early,  and  made  myself  as  fine  as  I  could,  and  put  on 
my  velvet  coat,  the  first  day  that  I  put  it  on,  though  made 
half  a  year  ago.  ...  It  is  impossible  to  relate  the  glory  of 
this  day,  expressed  in  the  clothes  of  them  that  rid  [in  the 
procession],  and  their  horses  and  horse-cloths.  Amongst 
others,  my  Lord  Sandwich's  diamonds  and  embroidery  was 
not  ordinary  among  them.  The  knights  of  the  Bath  was  a 
brave  sight  in  itself.  .  .  .  Remarkable  were  the  two  men 
that  represent  the  two  Dukes  of  Normandy  and  Aquitaine. 
The  Bishops  were  next  after  Barons,  which  is  the  higher 
place  ;  which  makes  me  think  that  the  next  Parliament  they 
will  be  called  to  the  House  of  Lords.  My  Lord  Monk  rode 
bare  after  the  King,  and  led  in  his  hand  a  spare  horse,  being 
Master  of  the  Horse.  .  .  .  The  streets  all  gravelled,  and  the 
houses  hung  with  carpets  upon  them,  made  brave  show, 
and  the  ladies  out  of  the  windows.  .  .  .  Both  the  King  and 
the  Duke  of  York  took  notice  of  us,  as  they  saw  us  at  the 
window.  .  .  . 

1  Ogilvy's   Coronation  of  King  Charles  II.,  where  every  triumphal 
arch  is  described. 

2  Clarendon's  Life,  April  23,  1661. 


THE   STUARTS.  109 

About  four  I  rose  and  got  to  the  Abbey,  and  with  much 
ado  did  get  up  into  a  scaffold  across  the  north  end,  where 
witli  a  great  deal  of  patience  I  sate  from  past  four   T]ic  Coro_ 
to  eleven.     And  a  great  pleasure  it  was  to  see  the    JJ^JIji".^ 
Abbey  raised  in  the  middle  all  covered  with  red,    loul- 
and  a  throne,  that  is  a  chair  and  footstool,  on  the  top  of  it, 
and  all  the  officers  of  all  kinds,  so  much  as  the  very  tiddlers, 
in  red  vests.     At  last  comes  the  Dean  [Dr.  Earles]  aud  Pre- 
bendaries of  Westminster.1 

The  ceremonial  we  need  not  follow,  except  in  a  few 
characteristic  particulars.  The  Kegnlia  were  all  new, 
though  bearing  the  ancient  names,  in  the  place  of  those 
that  perished  in  the  Commonwealth.  Busby  carried  the 
ampulla.  Archbishop  Juxon,  '  in  a  rich  ancient  cope,' 
'present  but  much  indisposed  and  weak,'2  anointed  and 
crowned  the  King.  The  rest  of  the  service  was  per- 
formed by  Sheldon,  as  Bishop  of  London3  Several  un- 
toward incidents  marred  the  solemnity.  The  Duke  of 
York  prevailed  on  the  King,  '  who  had  not  high  rever- 
ence for  old  customs,'  that  Lord  Jermyn  should  act  the 
part  of  his  Master  of  the  Horse,  as  the  Duke  of  Albe- 
marle  did  to  the  King. 

The  Lords  were  exceedingly  surprised  and  troubled  at  this, 
of  which  they  heard  nothing  till  they  saw  it ;  and  they  liked 
it   the  worse  because  they   discerned   that  it  issued  from  a 
fountain  from  whence  many  bitter  waters  were  like  to  How  — 
the  customs  of  the  Court  of  France,  whereof  the  King  and  the 

1  IVpys's  Diari/,  April  22  and  2.'?,  1061.    The  Kin-x  rode,  not  to  West- 
minster, hut  to  Whitehall.     The  l>;ui(|uct,  however,  was  ;it   Westmin- 
ster.    (Otfilvy,  p.  177.) 

2  Kvdyn,  April  2.'5,  Kilil  ;  O^ilvy,  p.  177. 

•'  The  sermon  was  preached  In-fore,  on  I'rov.  xxviii.  2,  liy  Morley, 
Iiishop  of  Worcester;  according  to  IVpys,  on  the  d:iy  hefore,  in  Henry 
VII.'s  Chapel,  according  to  Kvirlyn,  at  the  usual  time  of  the  serviee. 


110  THE   CORONATIONS  OF 

Duke  had  too  much  the  image  in  their  heads,  and  than  which 
there  could  not  he  a  copy  more  universally  ingrateful  and 
odious  to  the  English  nation. 

The  Earl  of  Northumberland  and  the  Earl  of  Ossory 
quarrelled  as  to  the  right  of  carrying  the  insignia,  '  as 
they  sate  at  table  in  Westminster  Hall.' J  The  King's 
footmen  and  the  Barons  of  the  Cinque  Ports  had  a  des- 
perate struggle  for  the  canopy. 

'  Strange  it  is  to  think  that  these  two  days  have  held 
up  fair  till  all  is  done,  and  then  it  fell  raining,  and 
thundering,  and  lightning  as  I  have  not  seen  it  so  for 
some  years  ;  which  people  did  take  great  notice  of.'2 

28.  As  in  the  case  of  Charles  II.,   so  of  James  II., 

Coronation     an    elaborate    description   of   the  pageant   is 

Apia  as8  IL>  preserved.3     He  was  crowned,  as  his  brother 

had  been,  on  the  23rd  of  April,  the  Feast  of 

St.  George. 

The  presence  of  the  Queen  and  of  the  Peeresses  gave  to 
the  solemnity  a  charm  which  had  been  wanting  to  the  mag- 
nificent inauguration  of  the  late  King.  Yet  those  who  re- 
membered that  inauguration  pronounced  that  there  was  a 
great  falling-off.  .  .  .  James  ordered  an  estimate  to  he  made 
of  the  cost  of  the  procession  from  the  Tower,  and  found  that 
it  would  amount  to  about  half  as  much  as  he  proposed  to  ex- 
pend in  covering  his  wife  with  trinkets.  He  accordingly 
determined  to  be  profuse  where  lie  ought  to  have  been  frugal, 
and  niggardly  where  he  might  pardonably  have  been  profuse. 
More  than  a  hundred  thousand  pounds  were  laid  out  in 
dressing  the  Queen,  and  the  procession  from  the  Tower  was 
omitted.  The  folly  of  this  course  is  obvious.  If  pageantry 

1  Clarendon's  Life,  ibid. 

2  Pepys,  April  23,  1661.  —  There  was  no  coronation  for  the  Queen- 
Consort  in  1662. 

'A  Sandford's  History  of  the  Coronation  of  James  II. 


THE   STUARTS.  Ill 

be  of  any  use  in  politics,  it  is  of  use  as  a  means  of  striking 
the  imagination  of  the  multitude.  It  is  surely  the  height 
of  absurdity  to  shut  out  the  populace  from  a  show  of  which 
the  main  object  is  to  make  an  impression  on  the  populace. 
James  would  have  shown  a  more  judicious  munificence  and  a 
more  judicious  parsimony,  if  he  had  traversed  London  from 
east  to  west  with  the  accustomed  pomp,  and  had  ordered  the 
robes  of  his  wife  to  be  somewhat  less  thickly  set  with  pearls 
and  diamonds.  His  example  was,  however,  long  followed  by 
his  successors ;  and  sums  which,  well  employed,  would  have 
afforded  exquisite  gratification  to  a  large  part  of  the  nation, 
were  squandered  on  an  exhibition  to  which  only  three  or 
four  thousand  privileged  persons  were  admitted. 

James  had  ordered  Sancroft  to  abridge  the  Ritual.  The 
reason  publicly  assigned  was  that  the  day  was  too  short  for 
all  that  was  to  be  done.  But  whoever  examines  the  changes 
which  were  made  will  see  that  the  real  object  was  to  remove 
some  things  highly  offensive  to  the  religious  feelings  of  a 
zealous  Roman  Catholic.  The  Communion  Service  was  not 
read.1  .  .  . 

Francis  Turner,  Bishop  of  Ely,  preached.  He  was  one  of 
those  writers  who  still  affected  the  obsolete  style  of  Arch- 
bishop Williams  and  Bishop  Andrews.  The  sermon  was 
made  up  of  quaint  conceits,  such  as  seventy  years  earlier 
might  have  been  admired,  but  such  as  moved  the  scorn  of  a 
generation  accustomed  to  the  purer  eloquence  of  Sprat,  nf 
South,  and  of  Tillotson.  King  Solomon  was  King  James. 
Adonijah  was  Monmouth.  Joab  was  a  Rye-house  conspirator  ; 
Shimei,  a  Whig  libeller  ;  Abiathar,  an  honest  but  misguided 
old  cavalier.  One  phrase  in  the  Book  of  Chronicles  was  con- 
strued to  mean  that  the  King  was  above  the  Parliament,  and 
another  was  cited  to  prove  that  he  alone  ought  to  command 
the  militia.  Towards  the  dost;  of  the  discourse,  the  orator 

1  The  Coronation  Oath  is  said  to  have  licen  altered.  (Oldinixon, 
ii.  695.)  The  ceremony  of  the  presentation  of  the.  Bihle  was  not  yet  a 
fixed  part  of  the  Ritual. 


112  THE   CORONATIONS  OF 

very  timidly  alluded  to  the  new  and  embarrassing  position  in 
which  the  Church  stood  with  reference  to  the  sovereign,  and 
reminded  his  hearers  that  the  Emperor  Constantius  Chlorus, 
though  not  himself  a  Christian,  had  held  in  honour  those 
Christians  who  remained  true  to  their  religion,  and  had 
treated  with  scorn  those  who  sought  to  earn  his  favour  by 
apostasy.  The  service  in  the  Abbey  was  followed  by  a  stately 
banquet  in  the  Hall,  the  banquet  by  brilliant  fireworks,  and 
the  fireworks  by  much  bad  poetry.1 

The  crown  had  tottered  on  James's  head.  Henry 
Sidney,  as  Keeper  of  the  liobes,  held  it  up.  '  This/  he 
said,  '  is  not  the  first  time  our  family  has  supported  the 
crown.'  2 

29.  The  same  apprehensions  that  Fuller  entertained 
when  he  recorded  the  coronation  of  Charles  I.,  under 
wiiinmand  ^ie  feelmg  that  it  might  be  the  last,  were 
Mary.  doubtless  felt  by  many  a  spectator  of  the 

events  which  succeeded  the  coronation  of  James  II., 
that  this  again  would  not  he  followed  by  another.  The 
legitimate  line  was  broken  :  the  successor  was  neither 
an  Englishman  nor  an  Anglican,  lint  with  that  te- 
nacity of  ancient  forms  which  distinguished  the  Kevo- 
lution  of  1688,  the  rite  of  Coronation,  so  far  from  being 
sanction  of  se^  aside,  was  now  first  sanctioned  by  Act  of 
n-iti.'in'hy"  Parliament.3  It  owed  this  recognition,  doubt- 
I'ariiameiit  iesSj  to  t]ie  Coronation  Oath,  which  had  always 
been  treated  as  the  safeguard  of  the  liberties  of  the 

1  Macanlay,  i.  47.3,  474. 

2  Oldmixon,  i.  195  ;  North,  ii.  126.     Three  relics  of  James  II. 's  cor- 
onation remain  : —  1.  The  music,  then  first  used,  of  Purcell  and  Hlow. 
(Planche,  p.  52.)      2.   The  tapestry,  preserved  in  Westminster  School 
and   in  the  Jerusalem  Chamber,  of  which   two  of  the  pieces,  those 
of  the  Circumcision  of  Isaac  and  of  Goliath,  can  lie  identified  in  Sand- 
ford's  engravings.     3.  The  attendance  of  the  Westminster  Scholars. 
(Saudford,  83.)  3  1  William  and  Mary,  c.  14. 


THE    STUARTS.  113 

English  Church  and  nation,  and  was  now,  for  the  first 
time  since  the  Reformation,  altered  into  conformity 
with  the  actual  usages  of  the  kingdom,  to  maintain  '  the 
Protestant  religion  as  established  by  law.'  l  '  From 
this  time,'  said  a  speaker  in  the  House  of  Commons, 
'  the  English  will  date  their  liberty  and  their  laws 
from  William  and  Mary,  not  from  St.  Edward  the 
Confessor.'2 

The  procession  at  their  coronation,  as  in  the  case  of 
James  II.,  took  place  not  from  the  Tower,  but  from  the 
Palace  of  Whitehall.     It  was  delayed  more  T]ie  Pro 
than  two  hours  (from  11  A.M.  to  1.30  P.M.),  ccssioi!- 
perhaps  by  the  press  of  business  consequent  on  the 
alarming  intelligence,  which  had  reached  the  King  and 
Queen  not  long  before,  of  the  landing  of  James  II.  in 
Ireland.3 

At  last  they  appeared.    There  were  many  peculiarities 
in  the  spectacle.     The  double  coronation  was  such  as 
had  never  been  seen  before.     The  short  Xing  TIH-  coio- 
and  tall   Queen  walked   side  by  side,  not  as  s.itnni-iy, 
king  and  consort,  but  as  joint  sovereigns,  with  low. 
the  sword  between  them.     For  the  first  time  a  second 
chair  of  state  was  provided,  which  has  since  been  ha- 
bitually used  for  the  Queens-consort.     Into  this  chair 
Mary  was  lifted,  like  her  husband,  girt  witli  the  sword, 
and  invested  with  the   symbols  of  sovereignty.      The 

1  For  tlie  whole  question  of  the  alteration  of  the  Coronation  Oath, 
sec  Maraulay,  iii.  114-117. 

2  The    Declaration  against  Transnbstantiation,   required   from   the 
sovereign  liy  the   Bill  of  Rights  (1  W.  and  M.  c.  2,  §  2),  was  made  in 
the  AI>l>ey,  down  to  the  coronation  of  George  IV.     Since  that  time  it 
has  (in  pursuance  with  the  provisions  of  the  same  Act)  heen  read  previ- 
ously he  fore  the  two  Houses  of  Parliament. 

3  Clarke's  Jdincx  //.,  ii.  328,  32!);   Dalrymple's  Memoirs,  vol.   ii.  p. 
15;    Lamberty,  quoted   in   Strickland,   xi.  21.      James    II.  landed   at 
Kinsale  on  March  12. 

VOL.  i.  —  8  . 


114  THE   CORONATIONS   OF 

Princess  Anne,  who  stood  near,  said,  '  Madam,  I  pity 
your  fatigue.'  The  Queen  turned  sharply,  with  the 
words,  '  A  crown,  sister,  is  not  so  heavy  as  it  seems.' l 
Behind  the  altar  rose,  for  the  first  time,  above  the  Con- 
fessor's Chapel,  the  seats  of  the  assembled  Commons. 
There,  was  a  full  attendance  of  the  lay  magnates  of  the 
realm,  including  even  some  who  had  voted  for  a 
Eegency.  Amongst  the  gifts  was  (revived  from  the 
coronation  of  Edward  VI.  and  the  installation  of  Crom- 
well) the  presentation,  continued  from  this  time  hence- 
forward, of  the  Bible  as  '  the  most  valuable  thing  that 
this  world  affords.'2 

The  show  of  Bishops,  indeed,  was  scanty.  The  Primate 
did  not  make  his  appearance  ;  and  his  place  was  supplied  by 
Compton.  On  one  side  of  Compton,  the  paten  was  carried 
by  Lloyd,  Bishop  of  St.  Asaph,  eminent  among  the  seven 
confessors  of  the  preceding  year.  On  the  other  side  Sprat, 
Bishop  of  Rochester,  lately  a  member  of  the  High  Commission, 
had  charge  of  the  chalice  [as  Dean  of  Westminster].  Burnet, 
the  junior  prelate,  preached  [on  the  last  words  of  David  the 
son  of  Jesse  3]  Avith  all  his  wonted  ability,  and  more  than  his 
wonted  taste  and  judgment.  His  grave  and  eloquent  dis- 
course was  polluted  neither  by  adulation  nor  by  malignity. 
He  is  said  to  have  been  greatly  applauded ;  and  it  may  well 
be  believed  that  the  animated  peroration,  in  which  he  im- 
plored Heaven  to  bless  the  royal  pair  with  long  life  and 
mutual  love,  with  obedient  subjects,  wise  counsellors,  and 
faithful  allies,  with  gallant  fleets  and.  armies,  with  victory, 

1  Oldmixon's  Hist,  of  England  ;  William  and  Mary,  p.  8. 

2  Maskell,  iii.  p.  cxix.     Coronation  Service  of  William  and  Mary. 

3  Narcissus  Luttrell's  Diary,  i.  521.     2  Sam.  xxiii.  3,  4  :     '  He  that 
ruleth  over  man  must  be  just,  ruling  in  the  fear  of  God.     And  he  shall 
be  as  the  light  of  the  morning,  when  the  sun  riseth,  even  a  morning 
without  clouds ;  as  the  tender  grass  springing  out  of  the  eartli  by  clear 
ihiuing  after  raiu.' 


THE   STUARTS.  115 

with  peace,  and  finally  with  crowns  more  glorious  and  more 
durable  than  those  which  then  glittered  on  the  altar  of  the 
Abbey,  drew  forth  the  loudest  hums  of  the  Commons;.1 

There  were,  of  course,  bad  omens  observed  by  the 
Jacobites.  The  day  was,  for  the  first  time,  neither  a 
Sunday  nor  a  holyday.  The  King  had  no  money  for 
the  accustomed  ottering  of  twenty  guineas,  and  it  was 
supplied  by  Dauby.2  The  way  from  the  Abbey  to  the 
Palace  was  lined  with  Dutch  soldiers.  The  medals  had 
on  their  reverse  a  chariot,  which  was  interpreted  to  be 
that  on  which  Tullia  drove  over  her  father's  body.  The 
more  scurrilous  lampoons  represented  a  boxing-match 
between  the  Archbishop  of  York  and  the  Bishop  of 
London  in  the  Abbey,  and  the  Champion  riding  up  the 
hall  on  an  ass  which  kicked  over  the  royal  tables.3 
The  Champion's  glove  was  reported  to  have  been  carried 
off  by  an  old  woman  upon  crutches.  '  1  heard  the 
sound  of  his  gauntlet  when  he  flung  it  on  the  ground,' 
says  a  spectator;  '  but  as  the  light  in  Westminster  Hall 
had  utterly  failed,  no  person  could  distinguish  what 
was  done.'4 

30.  The    coronation   of    Anne,  the  last    Stuart    sov- 
ereign, had  been  fixed  long  before  to  be,  as  that  of  her 
father  and  uncle,  on  St.  George's  Day  ;  and  so  (.OI.,m.ltl,m 
it  took  place,  though  William  had  been  buried  ^'.ri'ias', 
but  ten  days  before      The  Queen  was  carried,  1<OJ 
owing  to  her  gout,  from  St.  James's  to  the  Abbey.5     The 
duties  of  Lord  Great  Chamberlain  were  performed  by 
Sarah,  Duchess  of  Marlborough.     Her  train  was  carried 
by  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu.     Archbishop  Tenison 

1  Macaiilav,  iii.  188,  199.  4  Laniberty  in  Strickland,  xi. 

2  Lainberty  in  Strickland,  xii.  24.      27. 

3  Macaulay,  iii.  120.  °  Taylor,  p.  111. 


116  THE   CORONATIONS  OF 

crowned  her.1  Sharp,  Archbishop  of  York,  preached 
the  sermon  on  Isa.  xlix.  23,  '  Kings  shall  be  thy  nursing 
fathers,  and  their  queens  thy  nursing  mothers'  —  doubt- 
less in  the  expectation,  not  altogether  fruitless,  of  the 
advantages  that  the  Church  of  England  would  derive 
from  '  the  bounty  of  good  Queen  Anne.'  One  important 
place  was  vacant.  The  Bishop  of  Bath  and  Wells,  who 
should  have  supported  her  left  side,  was  absent.  For 
Ken  was  in  his  norijuring  retirement,  and  Kidder  was 
in  disgrace.2  It  was  remembered  that  the  high  offices 
of  the  Dukes  of  Normandy  and  Aquitaine  were  repre- 
sented by  Jonathan  Andrews  and  James  Clark.'"  The 
Queen  received  the  homage  of  her  husband,  Prince 
George  of  Denmark,  in  the  same  form  as  that  of  the 
English  nobles. 

31.  George  I.'s  coronation  was  an  awkward  recon- 
ciliation between  the  two  contending  factions  and 
coronation  nati°ns-  The  ceremonies  had  to  be  explained 
oct^'d"6 ' '  by  the  ministers,  who  could  not  speak  German, 
to  the  King,  who  could  not  speak  English,  in 
Latin,  which  they  must  both  have  spoken  very  im- 
perfectly. Hence  the  saying,  that  much  'bad  language' 
passed  between  them.4  Bolingbroke  and  Oxford  en- 
deavoured to  propitiate  the  new  dynasty  by  assisting  at 
the  coronation  —  Atterbury,  by  offering  to  the  King  the 
perquisites  which  he  might  have  claimed  as  Dean.5 
Bishop  Talbot  preached  the  sermon.  The  day  was  cel- 
ebrated at  Oxford  by  Jacobite  degrees,  and  at  Bristol 
by  Jacobite  riots.0 

1  It  is  said  that  she  had  negotiated  for  Ken  to  crown  her  (Strick- 
land, xii.  48).  But  this  would  hardly  have  been  done  without  expelling 
Tenison. 

-  Ibid.  3  Taylor,  p.  105. 

*  Chapters,  p.  188.  5  Oldmixon,  ii.  578. 

'  Stanhope's  Eixjland,  vol.  i.  167.     The  additional   securities   for 


THE   HOUSE   OF  HANOVER.  117 

In  this  reign  a  permanent  change  was  effected  in  one 
of  the  accompaniments  of  the  coronation, — namely, 
the  new  arrangement  of  the  Knights  of  the  Bath.  In 
the  earlier  coronations,  it  had  been  the  practica  of  the 
sovereigns  to  create  a  number  of  knights  before  they 
started  on  their  procession  from  the  Tower.  T]ie  Or(lpr 
These  knights  being  made  in  time  of  peace,  "'  tlli:  Buth- 
were  not  enrolled  in  any  existing  order,  and  for  a  long 
period  had  no  special  designation ;  but,  inasmuch  as 
one  of  the  most  striking  and  characteristic  parts  of  their 
admission  was  the  complete  ablution  of  their  persons 
on  the  vigil  of  their  knighthood,  as  an  emblem  of  the 
cleanliness  and  purity  of  their  future  profession,  they 
were  called  Knights  of  'the  Bath.'1  The  King  himself 
bathed  on  the  occasion  with  them.  They  \vere  com- 
pletely undressed,  placed  in  large  baths,  and  then 
wrapped  in  soft  blankets.2  The  distinctive  name  first 
appears  in  the  time  of  Henry  V.  The  ceremony  had 
always  taken  place  at  Westminster;  the  bath  in  the 
Painted  or  Prince's  Chamber,  an  I  the  vigils  either  before 
the  Confessor's  Shrine,  or  (since  the  Pteformation)  in 
Henry  Vll.'s  Chapel.  Edward  II.  was  thus  knighted, 
at  his  father's  coronation ;  and  the  crowd  was  so  great 
that  two  knights  were  suffocated.3  Evelyn  saw  '  the 
bathing  of  the  knights,  preparatory  to  the  coronation 
of  Charles  II.,  in  the  Painted  Chamber.'4  The  badge 


the  Church  of  England  wore  now  added  to  the  Coronation  Oath  in 
consequence  of  tliose  granted  to  the  Church  of  Scotland  in  the  Act 
of  the  Union. 

1  The  most  remarkahle  'hath  '  ever  taken  hy  a  knight,  for  this  pur- 
pose, was  that  of  the  Trilmne  Ilien/.i   in  the  porphyry  font  of  Constan- 
tine,  in  the  Baptistry  of  St.  John  Lateral).     The  words  '  duh  a  knight' 
are  said  to  lie  taken  from  the  dip.  'dooh,'  in  the  hath. 

2  Nichols's  f/isfori/  <iftln>  Onli-rn,  Hi.  :U1. 

3  Brayley's   Wvstminslcr,  p.  !)7.  4   Diary,  April   10,  1661. 


118  THE  CORONATIONS  OF 

which  they  wore  was  emblematic  of  the  saciedness  of 
their  Order  —  three  garlands  twisted  together  in  hon- 
our of  the  Holy  Trinity,  and  supposed  to  be  derived 
from  Arthur,  founder  of  British  chivalry.  The  motto 
—  with  a  somewhat  questionable  orthodoxy  —  was, 
'  Tria  numina  jttnda  in  uno.'  The  badge  was  altered 
in  the  reign  of  James  I.,  who,  by  a  no  less  audacious 
secularisation,  left  out  numina,  in  order  to  leave  the 
interpretation  open  for  '  the  junction  in  one '  of  the 
three  kingdoms  (tria  rcgna)  of  England,  Scotland,  and 
Ireland.1  The  Shamrock  was  added  to  the  Rose  and 
Thistle  after  the  Union  with  Ireland,  18U2.2 

It  occurred  to  Sir  Robert  Walpole  to  reconstruct  the 

Order,  by  the  limitation  Of  its  members  to  persons  of 

merit,  and  by  the  title,  thus  fitly  earned,  of 

1725. 

'the  most  honourable.'  It  is  said  that  his 
main  object  \vas  to  provide  himself  with  a  means  of 
resisting  the  constant  applications  for  the  Order  of  the 
Garter.  As  such  he  offered  it  to  Sarah,  Duchess  of 
Marlborough,  for  her  grandson.  'No,'  she  said,  'nothing 
but  the  Garter.'  'Madam,'  said  Walpole,  'they  who 
take  the  Bath  will  the  sooner  have  the  Garter.'  3 

The  first  knight  created  under  the  new  statutes  was 
William  Duke  of  Cumberland,  son  of  the  future  King, 
George  II.  The  child  —  afterwards  to  grow  up  into 
the  fierce  champion  of  his  house  —  was  but  four  years 
old,  and  was,  '  by  reason  of  his  tender  age,'  excused 
from  the  bath.  But  he  presented  his  little  sword  at 


1  Nichols,  pp.  37,  38,  46.  -  Ibid.  pp.  192,  194. 

8  Ibid.  p.  39. 

Quoth  King  Robin,  '  Our  Ribbons,  I  see,  are  too  few  — 
Of  St.  Andrew's  the  Green,  and  St.  George's  the  Blue; 
T  must  find  out  another  of  colour  more  gay, 
That  will  teach  all  my  subjects  with  pride  to  obey.' 

(Swift's  Works,  xii.  369.) 


INSTALLATION    OF  THK    KMCHTS    (>V   TIIK    I'.ATH    IN    1S12,   IN    IIKNUY 
AMI.'.S   CHAl'KL. 


THE  HOUSE  OF   HANOVER.  119 

the  altar ;  and  the  other  knights  were  duly  bathed  in 
the  Prince's  Chamber,  and  kept  their  vigil  in  Henry 
VI I. 's  Chapel,  where  also  the  installation  took  Insta]latkms 
place,  as  has  been  the  case  ever  since.  The  Knights  of 
number  of  knights  (36)  was  fixed  to  corre-  theBath- 
spond  with  the  number  of  the  stalls  in  the  Chapel. 
Every  20th  of  October  —  the  anniversary  of  George  I.  s 
coronation  —  a  procession  of  the  knights  was  to  take 
place  to  the  Chapel,  with  a  solemn  service,1  On  occa- 
sion of  an  installation,  they  ffroceeded  after  the  service, 
in  their  scarlet  robes  and  white  plumes,  to  a  banquet 
in  the  Prince's  Chamber.  The  royal  cook  stood  at  the 
door  of  the  Abbey,  with  his  cleaver,  threatening  to  strike 
off  the  spurs  from  the  heels  of  any  knight  who  proved 
unworthy  of  his  knightly  vows.2  The  highest  function- 
ary was  the  Great  Master,  an  office  first  filled  by  Mon- 
tagu, Earl  of  Halifax.  In  1749  Lord  Delamere  asked 
the  place  for  the  Duke  of  Montagu,  who  died  in  that 
year ;  and  from  that  time  —  to  prevent  the  recurrence 
of  such  a  precedence  —  no  Great  Master  has  been  ap- 
pointed, a  Prince  always  acting  on  his  behalf.3  Next 
to  him  ranks  the  Dean  of  Westminster,  as  Dean  of  the 
Order.  The  selection  of  a  dean  rather  than  a  bishop 
arose  from  the  circumstance  that  the  statutes  were 

1  Nichols,  pp.  47,  52. 

2  The  whole  scene  is  represented  in  a  picture,  painted  by  Canaletti 
for  Bishop  Wilcocks,  in  1747,  now  in  the  Deanery.     (See  Chapter  VI.) 
From  this  picture  it  would  appear  that  on  that  occasion  the  procession 
came  out  l>y  the  west  door.     In   1803  (see   Cent.  May.,  Ixxiii.   pL   1, 
p.  400),  it  entered  and  retired  by  Poets'  Corner;  and  the  cook  accord- 
ingly stood,  not   (as  in   1747)  at  the  west  entrance,  but  at  the  South 
Transept  door.     '  Kach  of  the  knights  bowed  to  him,  and  touched  their 
hats.      Some  of  them   asked   whether  there  were  any  fees  to  pay;  to 
which    he  answered,  he   would   do   himself  the   honour  to   call  upon 
them.     We  understand  that  he  receives  four  fjnine.-is  fur  this  extraor- 
dinary speech.'  ;!  Nichols,  p.  82. 


120  THE  CORONATIONS  OF 

framed  on  the  model  of  those  of  the  Order  of  the 
Thistle,  which,  being  established  in  Scotland  during 
the  abeyance  of  Episcopacy,  had  no  place  for  a  prelate 
amongst  its  officers.  According  to  this  Presbyterian 
scheme,  the  Dean  of  Westminster  was  naturally  chosen, 
both  from  his  position  as  the  chief  Presbyter  in  the 
Church  of  England,  and  also  from  his  connection  with 
the  Abbey  in  which  the  ceremony  was  to  take  place. 
It  was  his  duty  to  receive  the  swords  of  the  knights, 
lay  them  on  the  altar  (erected  for  the  purpose),  and 
restore  them  to  their  owners  with  suitable  admonitions. 
Under  the  altar  were  placed  the  banners  of  the  deceased 
knights,  during  which  ceremony  the  Dead  March  in  Saul 
was  played.1 

The  installations  continued,  at  intervals  more  or  less 
remote,  till  1812,  under  the  Regency,  since  which  time 
they  have  ceased.  In  183'J  the  Order  underwent  so  ex- 
tensive an  enlargement  and  alteration,  that  no  banners 
have  since  been  added  to  those  then  hung  in  the  Chapel. 

One  remarkable  degradation  and  restitution  has 
taken  place.  Earl  Dundonald's  banner  was,  after  the 
Lord  nun-  charges  of  fraud  brought  against  him  in  1814, 
banner.  taken  from  its  place,  and  ignominiously 
kicked  down  the  steps  of  the  Chapel.  After  many 
vicissitudes,  it  was  restored  to  the  family  upon  his 
death;  and  in  1860,  on  the  day  of  his  funeral  in  the 
Abbey,  by  order  of  the  Queen,  was  restored  by  the 
Herald  of  the  Order  to  its  ancient  support.  Under- 
neath the  vacant  place  of  the  shield  an  unknown 

3  Gent.  May.  ut  supra.  —  In  1803  tlic  Queen  and  Princesses  sat  in 
the  Dean's  Gallery,  at  the  south-west  corner  of  the  Nave,  and  were 
afterwards  entertained  in  the  Deanery.  The  knights,  in  their  passage 
round  the  Nave,  halted  and  made  obeisance  to  them,  the  trumpets 
Koumliug  the  whole  time  of  the  procession. 


THE   HOUSE   OF   HANOVER.  121 

admirer  lias   rudely  carved,  in    Spanish,   '  Cocliranc  — 
Chili  ?/  Ltbcrtad  viva!' 

o2.  We  return  to  the  ordinary  routine  of  coronation 

»  of  George 

the  royal  inaugurations.  l^V001'  n> 

The  coronation  of  George  II.1  was  performed  with  all  the 
pomp  and  magnificence  that  could  he  contrived ;  the  present 
King  diiferiug  so  much  from  the  last,  that  all  the  pageantry 
and  splendour,  hadges  and  trappings  of  royalty,  were  as 
pleasing  to  the  son  as  they  were  irksome  to  the  father.  The 
dress  of  the  Queen  on  this  occasion  was  as  fine  as  the  accu- 
mulated riches  of  the  city  and  suburhs  could  make  it ;  for 
besides  her  own  jewels  (which  were  a  great  number,  and  very 
valuable),  she  had  on  her  head  and  on  her  shoulders,  all  the 
pearls  she  could  borrow  of  the  ladies  of  quality  at  one  end  of 
the  town,  and  on  her  petticoat  all  the  diamonds  she  could 
hire  of  the  Jews  and  jewellers  at  the  other  ;  so  that  the  ap- 
pearance of  her  finery  was  a  mixture  of  magnificence  and 
meanness,  not  unlike  the  echit  of  royalty  in  many  other  par- 
ticulars when  it  comes  to  be  really  examined,  and  the  sources 
traced  to  what  money  hires  or  flattery  lends.2 

33.  '  The  coronation  of  George  III.3  is  over,'  says 
Horace  Walpole,  — 

Tis  even  a  more  gorgeous  sight  than  I  imagined.  I  saw 
the  procession  and  the  Hall  ;  but  the  return  was  in  the  dark. 

1  For  a  (jiinrrel  with  the  Dean  on  this  occasion,  see  Chapter  Book, 
November  4,  1727.  The  '  Veni  Creator'  was  omitted  l>y  mistake. 
(Lamheth  Coronation  Service.)  Bishop  Totter  preached  the  sermon, 
on  2  Chron  ix.  8.  (Calamy's  l.lfr,  ii.  501.) 

-  Lord  Hervey,  i.  88,  8'.).  —  This  was  caused  by  the  loss  of  Queen 
Anne's  jewels. 

3  It,  is  noted,  that  whereas  few  gave  half-a-gniuea  for  places  to  see 
George  11. 's  coronation,  and  for  an  apartment  forty  guineas,  in  the  lime 
of  (Jeorge  III.  front  seats  along  the  line  of  procession  cost  ten  guineas, 
and  a  similar  apartment  three  hundred  and  fifty,  (d'cut.  .!/»</.,  isai,  pt. 
ii.  p.  77.  Walpule's  l.itl<-rx,  iii.  445.) 


122  THE  CORONATIONS  OF 

In  the  morning  they  had  forgot  the  sword  of  state,  the  chairs 

for  King  and  Queen,  and  their  canopies.     They  used  the  Lord 

Mayor's  for  the  first,  and  made   the  last  in  the 

Corona- 
tion of  Hall  :    so  they  did  not  set   forth   till   noon ;    arid 

Sept.022)  '  then,  by  a  childish  compliment  to  the  King,  re- 
served the  illumination  of  the  Hall  till  his  entry, 
by  which  means  they  arrived  like  a  funeral,  nothing  being 
discernible  but  the  plumes  of  the  Knights  of  the  Bath,  which 
seemed  the  hearse.  .  .  .  My  Lady  Townshend  said  she  should 
be  very  glad  to  see  a  coronation,  as  she  never  had  seen  one. 
'Why,'  said  I,  'Madam,  you  walked  at  the  last?'  'Yes, 
child,'  said  she,  '  but  I  saw  nothing  of  it  :  I  only  looked  to 
"  see  who  looked  at  me."  :  The  Duchess  of  Queensberry 
walked  !  Her  affectation  that  day  was  to  do  nothing  prepos- 
terous. .  .  .  For  the  coronation,  if  a  puppet-show  could  be 
worth  a  million,  that  is.  The  multitudes,  balconies,  guards, 
and  processions  made  Palace  Yard  the  liveliest  spectacle  in 
the  world  :  the  Hall  was  the  most  glorious.  The  blaze  of 
lights,  the  richness  and  Arariety  of  habits,  the  ceremonial,  the 
benches  of  peers  and  peeresses,  frequent  and  full,  was  as 
awful  as  a  pageant  can  be  ;  and  yet  for  the  King's  sake  and 
my  own,  I  never  wish  to  see  another  ;  nor  am  impatient  to 
have  my  Lord  Effingham's  promise  fulfilled.  The  King  com- 
plained that  so  few  precedents  were  kept  for  their  proceed- 
ings. Lord  Effingham  owned,  the  Earl  Marshal's  office  had 
been  strangely  neglected  ;  but  he  had  taken  such  care  for  the 
future,  that  the  next  coronation  would  be  regulated  in  the 
most  exact  manner  imaginable.  The  number  of  peers  and 
peeresses  present  was  not  very  great ;  some  of  the  latter,  with 
no  excuse  in  the  world,  appeared  in  Lord  Lincoln's  gallery, 
and  even  walked  about  the  Hall  indecently  in  the  intervals 
of  the  procession.  My  Lady  Harrington,  covered  with  all  the 
diamonds  she  could  borrow,  hire,  or  seize,  and  with  the  air  of 
Roxana,  was  the  finest  figure  at  a  distance ;  she  complained 
to  George  Selwyn  that  she  was  to  walk  with  Lady  Ports- 
mouth, who  would  have  a  wig,  and  a  stick.  '  Pho,'  said  he, 


THE  HOUSE  OP   HANOVER.  123 

'you  will  only  look  as  if  you  were  taken  up  by  the  con- 
stable.' She  told  this  everywhere,  thinking  the  reflection 
was  on  my  Lady  Portsmouth.  Lady  Pembroke,  alone  at  the 
head  of  the  countesses,  was  the  picture  of  majestic  modesty  ; 
the  Duchess  of  Richmond  as  pretty  as  nature  and  dress,  with 
no  pains  of  her  own,  could  make  her ;  Lady  Spencer,  Lady 
Sutherland,  and  Lady  Northampton,  very  pretty  figures. 
Lady  Kildare,  still  beauty  itself,  if  not  a  little  too  large. 
The  ancient  peeresses  were  by  no  means  the  worst  party  : 
Lady  Westmoreland,  still  handsome,  and  with  more  dignity 
than  all ;  the  Duchess  of  Queensberry  looked  well,  though 
her  locks  milk  white  ;  Lady  Albemarle  very  genteel ;  nay, 
the  middle  age  had  some  good  representatives  in  Lady  Hol- 
derness,  Lady  Rochford,  and  Lady  Stralford,  the  perfectest 
little  figure  of  all.  My  Lady  Suffolk  ordered  her  robes,  and  I 
dressed  part  of  her  head,  as  I  made  some  of  my  Lord  Hert- 
ford's dress  ;  for  you  know,  no  profession  comes  amiss  to  me, 
from  a  tribune  of  the  people  to  a  habit-maker.  Don't 
imagine  that  there  were  not  figures  as  excellent  on  the  other 
side  :  old  Exeter,  who  told  the  King  he  was  the  handsomest 
man  she  ever  saw  ;  old  Effingham  and  a  Lady  Say  and  Scale, 
with  her  hair  powdered  and  her  tresses  black,  were  an  excel- 
lent contrast  to  the  handsome.  Lord  13 put  on  rouge 

upon  his  wife  and  the  Duchess  of  Bedford  in  the  Painted 
Chamber  ;  the  Duchess  of  Queensberry  told  me  of  the  latter, 
that  she  looked  like  an  orange-peach,  half  red  and  half  yel- 
low. The  coronets  of  the  peers  and  their  rubes  disguised 
them  .strangely  ;  it  required  all  the  beauty  of  the  Dukes  of 
Richmond  and  Marlborough  to  make  them  noticed.  One 
there  was,  though  of  another  species,  the  noblest  figure  I 
ever  saw,  the  High  Constable  of  Scotland,  Lord  Errol  ;  as 
one  saw  him  in  a  space  capable  of  containing  him,  one  ad- 
mired him.  At  the  wedding,  dressed  in  tissue,  lie  looked 
like  one  of  the  giants  in  (luildhall,  new  gilt.  It  added  to 
the  energy  of  his  person,  that  one  considered  him  acting  so 
considerable  a  part  in  that  very  Hall,  where  so  fesv  years  ago 


124  THE   CORONATIONS   OF 

one  saw  his  father,  Lord  Kilnmrnock,  condemned  to  the 
Llock.  The  champion  acted  his  part  admirably,  and  dashed 
down  his  gauntlet  with  proud  defiance.  His  associates,  Lord 
ErHngham,  Lord  Talbot,  and  the  Duke  of  Bedford,  were 
woeful ;  Lord  Talbot  piqued  himself  on  backing  his  horse 
down  the  Hall,  and  not  turning  its  rump  towards  the  King, 
but  he  had  taken  such  pains  to  dress  it  to  that  duty,  that  it 
entered  backwards  :  and  at  his  retreat  the  spectators  clapped, 
a  terrible  indecorum,  but  suitable  to  such  Bartholomew-fair 
doings.  He  had  twenty  demeles,  and  came  out  of  none 
creditably.  He  had  taken  away  the  table  of  the  Knights  of 
the  Bath,  and  was  forced  to  admit  two  in  their  old  place,  and 
dine  the  others  in  the  Court  of  Requests.  Sir  William  Stan- 
hope said,  '  We  are  ill-treated,  for  some  of  us  are  gentlemen.' 
Beckford  told  the  Earl  it  was  hard  to  refuse  a  table  to  the 
City  of  London,  whom  it  would  cost  ten  thousand  pounds  to 
banquet  the  King,  and  that  his  lordship  would  repent  it,  if 
they  had  not  a  table  in  the  Hall  ;  they  had.  To  the  barons 
of  the  Cinque-ports,  who  made  the  same  complaint,  he  said, 
'  If  you  come  to  me  as  Lord  Steward,  I  tell  you,  it  is  impos- 
sible ;  if  as  Lord  Talbot,  I  am  a  match  for  any  of  you  ;'  and 
then  he  said  to  -Lord  Bute,  '  If  I  were  a  minister,  thus  1 
would  talk  to  France,  to  Spain,  to  the  Dutch  —  none  of  your 
half  measures.'1  He  had  not  much  more  dignity  than  the 
iigure  of  General  Monk  in  the  Abbey.  .  .  .  Well,  it  was  all 
delightful,  but  net  half  so  charming  as  its  being  over. 

The  English  representatives  of  the  Dukes  of  Aqui- 
taine  and  Normandy  appeared  for  the  kist  time,2  and 
with  them  the  last  relics  of  our  dominion  over  France 

1  Walpole's   Letters,  iii.  437,  438,  440-445.     The  most  'diverting 
incident'  of  the  day  is  told  in  iii.  440.     See  also  the  account  by  Bonnell 
Thornton  in  Chapters,  pp.  185-192;  and   Gent.  Mat/.  (17G1),  pp.  414- 
416.     The  Champion  rode  the  white  charger  that  carried  George  II. 
on  the  battlefield  of  Dettingen.     (Ami.  lift/.  1861,  p.  232.) 

2  Gent.  M<tg.,  1761,  p.  419.  —  They  ranked  before  the  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury. 


THE   HOUSE   OF  HANOVER.  125 

vanished.1  Another  incident,  interpreted  in  a  more 
ominous  manner,  was  the  fall  of  the  largest  jewel  from 
the  crown,  which  was  afterwards  believed  to  have  fore- 
told the  loss  of  America.2 

When  Pitt  resign'd,  a  nation's  tears  will  own, 
Then  fell  the  brightest  jewel  of  the  crown. 

Archbishop  Seeker,  who  officiated,  had  baptized,  con- 
firmed, and  married  the  King.  Bishop  Druminond 
preached  on  1  Kings  x.  9.  The  princely  style  in  which 
the  young  King  seated  himself  after  the  ceremony 
attracted  general  notice.  '  No  actor  in  the  character  of 
Pyrrhns  in  the  Dixtrcst  Mother'  (says  an  eye-witness3), 
'  not  even  Booth  himself,  ever  ascended  the  throne  with 
so  much  grace  and  dignity.'  It  was  also  observed  that 
as  the  King  was  about  to  receive  the  Holy  Communion, 
he  inquired  of  the  Archbishop  whether  he  should  not 
lay  aside  his  crown  The  Archbishop  asked  the  Dean 
of  Westminster  (Zachary  Pearce)  but  neither  knew,  nor 
could  say,  what  was  the  usual  form.4  The  King  then 
took  it  oft',  saying, '  There  ought  to  be  one.'  He  wished 
the  Queen  to  do  the  same,  but  the  crown  was  fastened 
to  her  hair.5  It  is  not  clearly  known  what  George  IV. 
and  William  IV.  did  ; G  but  in  the  coronation  of  Queen 
Victoria,  the  Rubric  ran,  and  doubtless  henceforth  will 
run,  '  The  Queen,  taking  off  her  crown,  kneels  down.' 

But  the  most  interesting  peculiarity  of  George   lll.'s 

I  The  claims  of  the  Dean  and  Chapter  (if  Westminster  were  made 
in  Old  Frmrli  jind  English.     (Chapter  Hook,  July  :U,  1701.) 

'2  Hughes 's  Kur/lanii,  xiv.  40;  Am-cdoli'n  <>f  Chatham,  iii.  .'?83. 

3  Life  of  Bia/io/i  Xiirtoit  (by  himself),  i.  84.     He  was  Prebendary 
of  Westminster  .it  the  time. 

4  Maskell,  iii.  pp.  li.  and  liii.  5  Hughes,  xiv.  40. 

II  The  crown  was  worn  at  tin'  part  of  tlio  service  .by  Henry  VI.  and 
Henry  VIII.,  but  was  nut  worn  l>_,  Charles  II.     (.Maskell,  iii.  p.  liii.) 


126  THE   CORONATIONS   OF 

coronation  was  the  unseen  attendance  of  the  rival  to 
the  throne  —  Prince  Charles  Edward.1  '  I  asked  my 
\  .  cannce  Lord  Marshal,'  says  David  Hume,  '  the  reason 
charies*  °^  this  strange  fact.  "Ay,"  says  he,  "a  gen- 
tleman told  me  so  who  saw  him  there,  and 
whispered  in  his  ear, '  Your  Royal  Highness  is  the  last  of 
all  mortals  whom  I  should  expect  to  see  here.'  '  It  was 
curiosity  that  led  me,'  said  the  other;  'but  I  assure 
you,'  added  he,  '  that  the  person  who  is  the  cause  of 
all  this  pomp  and  magnificence  is  the  man  I  envy 
least.""2 

34.  The  splendour  of  the  coronation  of  George  IV. 
has  been  described  by  Sir  Walter  Scott3  too  fully  to 
corona-  need  repetition.  Many  smaller  incidents  still 
Hem-civ.,  survive  in  the  recollection  of  those  who  were 

July  13, 

present.  The  heat  of  the  day  and  the  fatigue 
of  the  ceremony  almost  exhausted  the  somewhat  portly 
Prince,  who  was  found  cooling  himself,  stripped  of  all 

1  He  was  in  London  under  the  name  of  Mr.  Brown.  (Cent.  Mnrj., 
1764,  p.  24.)  See  also  the  scene  in  Westminster  Hall,  described  in 
Redgauntlet, 

-  Hume,  in  Gent.  May.,  1773. 

3  See  Cent.  Jfd</.,  1821,  pt.  ii.  pp.  104-110.  The  Duke  of  Wellington 
acted  as  Lord  High  Constable,  Lord  Anglesey  as  Lord  High  Steward. 
The  banquet  was  celebrated,  and  the  Champion  then  appeared,  proba- 
bl v  for  the  last  time.  The  sermon  was  preached  by  the  Archbishop 
of  York  (Vernon),  on  the  same  text  as  that  selected  by  Unmet  for 
William  III.  (Seep.  114.)  The  ceremony  was  rehearsed  the  week 
before  in  the  Abbey  and  Hall.  (Ann.  Roister,  1821,  p.  344.)  '  Amongst 
the  feudal  services  the  two  falcons  of  the  Duke  of  Atholl,  for  the  Isle  of 
Man,  were  conspicuous.  Seated  on  the  wrist  of  his  hawking  gauntlet, 
the  beautiful  Peregrine  falcons  appeared,  with  their  usual  ornaments. 
The  King  descended  from  his  chair  of  state,  and  the  ladies  of  the  court 
pressed  round  to  caress  and  examine  the  noble  birds.'  The  claim  had 
been  made  and  conceded  at  the  coronation  of  Charles  II.  The  corona- 
tion oath  was  altered  to  meet  the  new  phraseology  introduced  by  the 
union  with  the  Church  of  Ireland,  destined  to  be  again  altered  by  the 
recent  Act  for  dissolving  it. 


THE   HOUSE   OF    HANOVER.  127 

his  robes,  in  the  Confessor's  Chapel,  and  at  another 
part  of  the  service  was  only  revived  by  smelling  salts 
accidentally  provided  by  the  Archbishop's  secretary. 
During  the  long  ceremony  of  the  homage  which  he 
received  with  visible  expressions  of  disgust  or  satis- 
faction, as  the  peers  of  the  contending  parties  came 
up,  he  was  perpetually  wiping  his  streaming  face  with 
innumerable  handkerchiefs,  which  he  handed  in  rapid 
succession  to  the  Primate,  who  stood  beside  him.  The 
form  of  the  coronation  oath,  on  which  so  many  political 
struggles  hinged  during  this  and  the  preceding  reign, 
had  been  forgotten ;  and  the  omission  could  only  be 
rectified  by  requesting  the  King  to  make  his  signature 
at  the  foot  of  the  oath,  as  printed  in  the  service  book, 
which  was  accordingly  enrolled,  instead  of  the  usual 
engrossment  on  vellum.1 

But  the  most  remarkable  feature  of  the  day  was  that 
it  furnished  the  materials  for  what  was,  in  fact,  a  polit- 
ical battle  between  the  King  and  his  Queen,  almost 
between  the  King  and  his  people.  'Everyone  went 
in  the  morning  with  very  uncomfortable  feelings  and 
dread.'2  On  the  one  side  the  magnificence  of  the 
pageant,  on  the  other  side  the  failure  of  the  ill-advised 
attempt  of  Queen  Caroline  to  enter  the  Abbey,  by  a 
combination  of  feelings  not  altogether  unusual,  and  not 
creditable  to  the  judgment  of  the  Knglish  people,  pro- 
duced a  complete  reaction  in  favour  of  the  successful 
husband  against  the  unsuccessful  wife.3  The  Queen, 
after  vainly  appealing  to  the  Privy  Council,  to  the 

1  I  owe  these  incidents  to  various  eyewitnesses,  cliielly  to  Mr.  Chris- 
topher Hodgson,  then  acting  as  secretary  to  Archbishop  Sutton. 

-   I. lf<-  of  Lord  /•:/(/<»!,  ii.  4-2S. 

3  In  Seeker's  copy  of  the  service  of  George  TIF.'s  coronation,  used 
as  the  basis  of  that  of  George  IV.,  the  orders  for  the  Queen's  appearance 
>\ere  significantly  erased  throughout. 


128  THE   CORONATIONS  OF 

Prime  Minister,  and  to  the  Earl  Marshal,  rashly  deter- 
utempted  mined  to  be  present.  At  6  o'clock  on  the 
Quom080'  morning  of  the  day,  she  drove  from  South 
Caroline.  Dudley  gtreet  to  Dean's  Yard.1  Within  the 
Precincts  at  that  hour  there  were  as  yet  hut  a  few  of 
the  Ahbey  officials  on  the  alert.  One  of  them2  was 
standing  in  the  West  Cloister  when  he  saw  the  Queen 
approach,  accompanied  by  Lord  Hood.  Just  at  the 
point  where  the  Woodfall  monument  is  now  placed, 
they  encountered  a  gentleman,  in  court  costume,  belong- 
ing to  the  opposite  party,  who  hissed  repeatedly  in  her 
face.  Whilst  Lord  Hood  motioned  him  aside  with  a 
deprecating  gesture,  she  passed  on  into  the  North 
Cloister,  and  thence  to  the  East  Cloister  door,  the  only 
one  on  that  side  available,  where  she  was  repulsed 
by  two  stalwart  porters,  who  (in  the  absence  of  our 
modern  police)  were  guarding  the  entrance.  She  then 
hastened  back,  and  crossed  the  great  platform  in  St. 
Margaret's  Churchyard,  erected  for  the  outside  pro- 
cession. It  was  observed  by  those  who  watched  her 
closely  that  her  under  lip  quivered  incessantly,  the 
only  mark  of  agitation.  She  thus  reached  3  the  regular 
approach  by  Poets'  Corner.  Sir  Eobert  Inglis,  then  a 
young  man,  was  charged  with  the  duty  of  keeping 
order  at  that  point.  He  heard  a  cry  that  the  Queen 
was  coming.  He  flew  (such  was  his  account),  rather 
than  ran,  to  the  door  of  the  South  Transept.  She  was 
leaning  on  Lord  Hood's  arm.  He  had  but  a  moment 
to  make  up  his  mind  how  to  meet  her.  '  It  is  my 

1  Gent.  Mafj.,  1824,  pt.  ii.  p.  73;  Ann.  Reijister,  1831,  p.  347. 

2  From  this  young  official,  for  many  years  the  respected  organist 
of  the  Abbey,  I  derive  this  part  of  the  narrative. 

3  This  is  takeu  from  Mr.  Almack,  who  was  011  the  platform,  and 
followed  her. 


THE   HOUSE   OF   HANOVER.  129 

duty/  he  said,  '  to  announce  to  your  Majesty  that  there 
is  no  place  in  the  Abbey  prepared  for  your  Majesty.' 
The  Queen  paused,  and  replied,  '  Am  1  to  understand 
that  you  prevent  me  from  entering  the  Abbey  ? ' 
'  Madam,'  he  answered,  in  the  same  words,  '  it  is  my 
duty  to  announce  to  you  that  there  is  no  place  pro- 
vided for  your  Majesty  in  the  Abbey.'  She  turned 
without  a  word.1  This  was  the  final  repulse.  She  who 
had  come  with  deafening  cheers  retired  in  dead  silence.2 
She  was  seen  to  weep  as  she  re-entered3  her  carriage. 
Her  old  coachman,  it  is  said,  had  for  the  first  time  that 
morning  harnessed  the  horses  reluctantly,  conscious 
that  the  attempt  would  be  a  failure.  On  the  follow- 
ing day  she  wrote  to  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury 
(Manners-Sutton),  expressing  her  desire  to  be  crowned 
some  days  after  the  King,  and  before  the  arrangements 
were  done  away  with,  so  that  there  might  be  no  addi- 
tional expense.  The  Primate  answered  that  lie  could 
not  act  except  under  orders  from  the  King.4  In  a  few 
weeks  she  was  dead ;  and  her  remains  —  carried  with 
difficulty  through  the  tumultuous  streets  of  London, 
where  the  tide  of  popularity  had  again  turned  in  her 
favour,  and  greeted  -with  funeral  welcomes  at  every 
halting-place  in  Germany  —  reposed  finally,  not  in 
Windsor  or  Westminster,  but  in  her  ancestral  vault 
at  Brunswick.5 


1  I  have  given  this  account  as  I  hoard  it  from  Sir  \\.  Inglis.  A 
longer  narrative  of  the  dialogue  between  Lord  Hood  and  the  door- 
keepers is  given  in  the  Gent.  Mni/.,  1821,  ]>t.  i.  p.  74. 

-  Or  with  mingled  cries  of  '  The  Queen  !  —  the  Queen  ! '  or  '  Shame  ! 
shame! '  (Ibid.  p.  .'57.) 

3  Life  of  Lord  EUIon,  ii.  428.  *    Cnit.  M<n/.,  1821,  pt.  ii.  p.  75. 

5  It  is  recorded  that  the  town  lioi/s  of  Westminster  School   first  ac- 
quired at  (Jeorge   IV.'s  Coronation  the  privilege  of  attending,  which 
had  been  before  confined  to  the  scholars. 
VOL.  i.  — U 


130  CORONATION   OF   QUEEN   VICTORIA. 

35.  As  George  IV.  had  conciliated  the  popular  favour 
by  the  splendour  of  his  coronation,  so,  in  the  impending 
corona         tempests  of  the  Reform  agitation,  William  IV. 
w'iiiiani  iv    endeavoured  to  do  the  like  by  the  reverse  pro- 
sept  ss'ay>      cess-    A  question  was  even  raised,  both  by  the 

King  in  correspondence  l  with  his  ministers, 
and  by  a  peer  in  the  House  of  Lords,  whether  the  coro- 
nation might  not  be  dispensed  with.  There  was  no 
procession,  and  the  banquet,  for  the  first  time,  was 
omitted.  Queen  Adelaide  was  crowned  with  her  hus- 
band.2 The  day  was  the  anniversary  of  her  fathers 
wedding. 

36.  The  last  coronation  3  doubtless  still  lives  in  the 
recollection  of  all  who  witnessed  it.     They  will  long 
coronation     remember  the  early  summer  morning,  when, 
victoria!       a^  break  of  day,  the  streets  were  thronged, 
jmiTis?'      and  the  whole  capital  awake  —  the  first  sight 

of  the  Abbey,  crowded  with  the  mass  of  gor- 
geous spectators,  themselves  a  pageant  —  the  electric 
shock  through  the  whole  mass,  when  the  first  gun 
announced  that  the  Queen  was  on  her  way  —  and  the 
thrill  of  expectation  with  which  the  iron  rails  seemed 
to  tremble  in  the  hands  of  the  spectators,  as  the  long 
procession  closed  with  the  entrance  of  the  small  figure, 

1  Correspondence  of  William  IV.  and  Earl  drey,  i.  301,  302. 

2  Gent.  May.,  1831,  pp.  219-230;  Ann.  Register,  1831. 

3  The  coronation  service  was  abridged,  in  consideration  of  the  occa- 
sion.    But  it  was  thought  unnecessary  (as  heretofore)  to  insert  in  the 
Rubric  an  order  that  the  sermon  should  he  'short.'    The  day  was  change  d 
from  June  26  to  June  28,  to  avoid  the  anniversary  of  George  IN'.'s 
death,  and  by  so  doing  infringed  on  the  Vigil  of  the  Feast  of  St.  Peter, 
which  led  to  a  characteristic  sonnet  from  the  Oxford  Poet  of  that  time  — 
Isaac  Williams.     The  procession  was  partly  revived  by  the  cavalcade 
from  Buckingham  Palace.     The  House  of   Commons  joined  for  the 
first  time  in  the  ceremony,  by  nine  loud  and  hearty  cheers  after  the 
homage  of  the  Peers.     (Gent.  May.,  1838,  pt.  ii.  p.  198.) 


CONCLUSION.  131 

marked  out  from  all  beside  by  the  regal  train  and 
attendants,  floating  like  a  crimson  and  silvery  cloud 
behind  her.  At  the  moment  when  she  first  came 
within  the  full  view  of  the  Abbey,  and  paused,  as  if 
for  breath,  with  clasped  hands,  — -  as  she  moved  on,  to 
her  place  by  the  altar,  —  as  in  the  deep  silence  of  the 
vast  multitude,  the  tremulous  voice  of  Archbishop 
Howley  could  be  faintly  heard,  even  to  the  remotest 
corners  of  the  Choir,  asking  for  the  recognition,  —  as 
she  sate  immovable  on  the  throne,  when  the  crown 
touched  her  head,  amidst  shout  and  trumpet  and  the 
roar  of  cannon,  there  must  have  been  many  who  felt  a 
hope  that  the  loyalty  which  had  waxed  cold  in  the 
preceding  reigns  would  once  more  revive,  in  a  more 
serious  form  than  it  had,  perhaps,  ever  worn  before.1 
Other  solemnities  they  may  have  seen  more  beautiful, 
or  more  strange,  or  more  touching,  but  none  at  once  so 
gorgeous  and  so  impressive,  in  recollections,  in  actual 
sight,  and  in  promise  of  what  was  to  be. 

With  this  fairy  vision  ends  for  us  the  series  of  the 
most  continuous  succession  of  events  that  the  Abbey 
has  witnessed.  None  such  belongs  to  any 

Conclusion. 

other  building  in  the  world.  The  coronations 
of  the  Kings  of  France  at  Reims,  and  of  the  Popes  iu 
the  Basilica  of  the  Vatican,  most  nearly  approach  it. 
But  Eeims  is  now  deserted,  and  the  present  Church 
of  St.  Peter  is  by  five  centuries  more  modern  than  the 
Abbey.  The  Westminster  Coronations  are  thus  the 


1  For  the  best  expression  which  has  perhaps  ever  heen  iriven  of  (lie 
full  religious  aspect  of  an  English  Coronation,  I  cannot  forbear  to  refer 
to  the  sermon  preached  on  that  day,  in  the  parish  church  of  Am!>lc>ide. 
by  Dr.  Arnold.  (SrriHons,  iv.  4.'5S  )  The  'short  and  suitable  sermon" 
in  the  Abbey  on  the  last  two  occasions  was,  in  IS.'il  on  1  1'et.  ii.  I'!,  in 
18.'58  on  2  Chron.  xxxiv.  .'Jl,  preached  by  Bishop  Blomfield. 


132  CONCLUSION. 

outward  expression  of  the  grandeur  of  the  English 
monarchy.  They  serve  to  mark  the  various  turns  in 
the  winding  road  along  which  it  has  passed  to  its 
present  form.  They  reflect  the  various  proportions  in 
which  its  elective  and  its  hereditary  character  have 
counterbalanced  each  other.  They  contain,  on  the  one 
hand,  in  the  Recognition,  the  Enthronisation,  and  the 
Oath,  the  utterances  of  the  '  fierce  democracy '  of  the 
people  of  England.  They  contain,  on  the  other  hand, 
in  the  Unction,  the  Crown,  the  Fatal  Stone,  in  the 
sanction  of  the  prelates  and  the  homage  of  the  nobles, 
the  primitive  regard  for  sacred  places,  sacred  relics, 
consecrated  persons,  and  heaven-descended  right,  lin- 
gering on  through  all  the  counteracting  tendencies  of 
change  and  time.  They  show  the  effect  produced,  even 
on  minds  and  circumstances  least  congenial,  by  the 
combination  of  this  sentiment  with  outward  display 
and  antique  magnificence.  They  exhibit  the  curious 
devices,  half  political  and  half  religious,  by  which  new 
or  unpopular  sovereigns  have  been  propped  up  —  the 
Confessor's  grave  for  "William  the  Conqueror ;  the 
miraculous  oil  for  Henry  IV. ;  the  Stone  of  Scone  for 
Edward  II.,  for  James  I.,  and  for  Oliver  Cromwell ;  the 
unusual  splendour  for  Richard  III.,  for  Anne  Boleyn, 
and  George  IV. ;  the  Oath  and  the  Bible  for  William 
III.  They  show  us  the  struggles  for  precedence,  lead- 
ing to  outbreaks  of  the  wildest  passions,  and  the  most 
deadly  feuds  between  magnates  not  only  of  the  State 
but  of  the  clergy.  The  Norman  Lanfranc  aimed  his 
heaviest  blow  at  the  Anglo-Saxon  Church  by  wresting 
the  coronation  from  Aldred  of  York.  The  supreme 
conflict  of  Becket  resulted  from  the  infringement  of 
his  archiepiscopal  rights  in  the  coronation  of  Prince 
Henry.  The  keenest  insult  that  Laud  could  inflict  on 


The  Confessor's  Chapel. 


CONCLUSION.  133 

his  neighbour  Williams  was  by  superseding  him  at  the 
coronation  of  Charles  I.  Queen  Caroline  sank  under 
her  exclusion  from  the  coronation  of  George  IV. 

The  Coronation  Service  —  at  once  the  most  ancient 
and  the  most  flexible  portion  of  the  Anglican  Ritual  — 
reveals  the  changes  of  ceremony  and  doctrine,  and  at 
the  same  time  the  unity  of  sentiment  and  faith,  which 
escape  us  in  the  stiffer  forms  of  the  ordinary  Liturgy. 
In  its  general  structure  it  represents  the  complex  rela- 
tions of  the  civil  and  ecclesiastical  polity  of  England. 
In  its  varying  details  it  exhibits  the  combination  of  the 
opposite  elements  which  have  formed  the  peculiar  tone 
of  the  English  Church. 

The  personal  characters  of  the  sovereigns  make  them- 
selves felt  even  in  these  merely  ceremonial  functions  :  — 
the  iron  nerves  of  the  Conqueror  for  an  instant  shaken  ; 
the  generosity  of  Coeur-de-Lion  ;  the  martial  spirit  of 
Edward  I.  ;  the  extravagance  of  Richard  II.  ;  the  par- 
simony of  Henry  VII.  ;  the  timidity  of  James  I.  ;  the 
fancifulness  of  Charles  I. ;  the  decorous  reverence  of 
George  III. ;  the  heartlessness  of  George  IV.  The  po- 
litical and  religious  movements  of  the  time  have  like- 
wise stamped  their  mark  on  these  transitory  scenes. 
The  struggles  of  the  Saxon  and  Xorman  elements,  not 
yet  united,  under  the  Conqueror ;  the  fanatical  hatred 
against  the  Jews,  under  Richard  I.;  the  jealousy  of  the 
Crown  under  John,  and  of  the  Court  favourites  under 
Edward  II. ;  the  claims  of  the  conflicting  dynasties  un- 
der Edward  IV.  and  Heury  VII.;  the  heavings  of  the 
Reformation  under  Edward,  Mary,  and  Elizabeth  ;  the 
prognostications  of  the  Rebellion  under  Charles  I.; 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  Restoration  under  Charles  II.; 
the  triumph  of  the  Constitution  under  William  III.;  the 
economical  spirit  of  the  Reform  era  under  William  IV. ; 


134  CONCLUSION. 

—  could  be  noted  in  the  successive  inaugurations  of 
those  sovereigns,  even  though  all  other  records  of  their 
reigns  were  lost. 

Yet  still  the  Coronations  are  but  as  the  outward  wave 
of  English  history.  They  break  over  the  Abbey,  as 
they  break  over  the  country,  without  leaving  any  per- 
manent mark.  With  the  two  exceptions  of  the  Stone  of 
Scone  and  the  banners  of  the  Knights  of  the  Bath,  they 
left  no  trace  in  the  structure  of -the  building,  unless 
where  the  scaffolding  has  torn  away  the  feature  of  some 
honoured  monument  or  the  decoration  of  some  ancient 
column.  They  belong  to  the  form  of  the  history,  and 
not  to  its  substance.  The  truth  of  the  saying  of  Horace 
Walpole  at  the  Coronation  of  George  III.  will  probably 
be  always  felt  at  the  time.  '  What  is  the  finest  sight 
in  the  world  ?  A  Coronation.  What  do  people  most 
talk  about  ?  A  Coronation.  What  is  the  thing  most 
delightful  to  have  passed  ?  A  Coronation.' !  But  there 
are  scenes  more  moving  than  the  most  splendid  pageant, 
and  there  are  incidents  in  the  lives  of  sovereigns  more 
characteristic  of  themselves  and  of  their  country  even 
than  their  inaugurations.  Such  is  the  next  series  of 
events  in  the  Abbey,  which,  whilst  it  exhibits  to  us  far- 
more  clearly  the  personal  traits  of  the  Kings  them- 
selves, has  also  entered  far  more  deeply  into  the  vitals 
of  the  edifice.  The  close  of  each  reign  is  the  summary 
of  the  contents  of  each.  The  History  of  .the  Eoyal 
Tombs  is  the  History  of  the  Abbey  itself. 

1  Walpole's  Letters,  iii.  444. 


THE   ROYAL   TOMBS. 

I  HAVE  left  the  repository  of  our  English  Kings  for  the  con- 
templation of  a  day  when  I  shall  find  my  mind  disposed  for  so 
serious  an  amusement,  (Spectator,  No.  'JG.) 


SPECIAL   AUTHORITIES. 

BESIDES  the  notices  in  contemporary  Chronicles  and  Histories, 
must  be  mentioned  — 

I.  The  architectural  descriptions  of  the  Tombs  in  Dart,  Neale, 

and  Scott's  Gleanings  of  Westminster  Abbey. 

II.  The  notices  of  the  Interments  and   of  the    Royal  Vaults 

in —  (a)  The  Burial  Registers  of  the  Abbey  from  H!<)6 
to  the  present  time  ;  (/>)  Sandford's  Genealogical  His- 
tory of  the  Kings  of  En  (/land,  1G77;  (r)  Monumenta 
Westmonasteriensia,  by  II.  K.,  i.e.  Keepe,  1683  ;  (W)  An- 
tiquities of  Westminster  Abbey,  by  Crull  —  sometimes 
under  the  name,  of  II.  S..  sometimes  of  J.  C.,  —  1711  and 
1713;  (e)  MS.  Records  of  the  Heralds'  College  and  the 
Lord  Chamberlain's  Office,  to  which  my  attention  has 
been  called  by  the  kindness  of  Mr.  Doyne  Bell,  who  is 
engaged  in  a  work  on  the  '  Royal  Interments,'  which 
will  bring  to  light  many  curious  and  exact  details,  not 
hitherto  known  respecting  them.  See  also  Appendix. 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE     ROYAL     TOMBS. 

THE  burialplaces  of  Kings  are  always  famous.  The 
oldest  and  greatest  buildings  on  the  earth  are 
Tombs  of  Kings  —  the  Pyramids.  The  most  Tomiisof 
wonderful  revelation  of  the  life  of  the  ancient  Kmgs' 
world  is  that  which  is  painted  in  the  rock-hewn  cata- 
combs of  the  Valley  of  the  Tombs  of  the  Kings  at 
Thebes.  The  burial  of  the  Kings  of  Judali  was  a  kind 
of  canonisation.  In  the  vision  of  '  all  the  Kings  of  the 
nations,  lying  in  glory,  every  one  in  his  own  house,'  the 
ancient  prophets  saw  the  august  image  of  the  nether 
world. 

These  burialplaces,  however,  according  to  the  univer- 
sal practice  of  antiquity,  were  mostly  outside  the  pre- 
cincts of  the  towns.  The  sepulchre  of  the  race  of 
David  within  the  city  of  Jerusalem  formed  a  solitary 
exception.  The  Roman  Emperors  were  interred  first  in 
the  mausoleum  of  Augustus,  in  the  Campus  Martins, 
beyond  the  walls — then  in  the  mausoleum  of  Hadrian, 
on  the  farther  side  of  the  Tiber.  The  burial  of  (reta  at 
the  foot  of  the  Palatine,  and  of  Trajan  at  the  base  of  his 
Column,  in  the  Forum  which  bears  his  name,  were  the 
first  indications  that  the  sanctity  of  the  city  might  be 
invaded  by  the  presence  of  imperial  graves.  It  was  re- 
served for  Constantine  to  give  the  earliest  example  of 
the  interment  of  sovereigns,  not  only  within  the  walls 
of  a  city,  but  within  a  sacred  building,  when  lie  and  his 


138  THE  ROYAL  TOMBS. 

successors  were  laid  in  the  Church  of  the  Apostles  at 
Constantinople.  This  precedent  was  from  that  time 
followed  both  in  East  and  West,  and  every  European 
nation  has  now  its  royal  consecrated  cemetery. 

But  there  are  two  peculiarities  in  Westminster  which 
are  hardly  found  elsewhere.  The  first  is  that  it  unites 
the  Coronations  with  the  Burials.  The  nearest  ap- 
proach to  this  is  in  Poland  and  Russia.  In  the  cathe- 
dral of  Cracow,  by  the  shrine  of  St.  Stanislaus,  the 
Becket  of  the  Sclavonic  races,  the  Kings  of  Poland  were 
crowned  and  buried  from  the  thirteenth  century  to  the 
Peculiarities  dissolution  of  the  kingdom.1  In  the  Kremlin 

of  the  Royal  . 

Tombs  in       at  Moscow  stand  side  bv  side  the  three  cathe- 

West- 

miiister.  drals  of  the  Assumption,  of  the  Annunciation, 
and  of  the  Archangel.  In  the  first  the  Czars  are 
crowned ;  in  the  second  they  are  married ;  and  in  the 
third,  till  the  accession  of  Peter,  they  were  buried. 
Only  three  royal  marriages  have  taken  place  in  the 
i.  com-  Abbey  —  those  of  Henry  III.,  of  Richard  II., 
coronations  and  of  Henry  VII.  But  its  first  coronation, 
BuHais.  as  we  liave  seen,2  sprang  out  of  its  first  royal 
grave.  Its  subsequent  burials  are  the  result  of  both. 
So  Waller  finely  sang : 

That  antique  pile  behold, 
Where  royal  heads  receive  the  sacred  gold  : 
It  gives  them  crowns,  and  does  their  ashes  keep, 
There  made  like  gods,  like  mortals  there  they  sleep; 
Making  the  circle  of  their  reign  complete, 
These  suns  of  empire,  where  they  rise  they  set.8 

So  Jeremy  Taylor  preached  : 

Where  our  kings  have  been  crowned,  their  ancestors  lie 
interred,  arid  they  must  walk  over  their  grandsire's  head  to 

1  See  Mr.  Clark's  description  of  it  in  Vacation  Tourists,  1862,  p.  239. 

2  Chapter  II.  3  On  St.  James's  Park. 


PECULIARITIES  OF   WESTMINSTER.  189 

take  his  crown.  There  is  an  acre  sown  with  royal  seed,  the 
copy  of  the  greatest  change,  from  rich  to  naked,  from  ceiled 
roofs  to  arched  coffins,  from  living  like  gods  to  die  like 
men.  .  .  .  There  the  warlike  and  the  peaceful,  the  fortunate 
and  the  miserable,  the  beloved  and  the  despised  princes  min- 
gle their  dust,  and  pay  down  their  symbol  of  mortality,  and 
tell  all  the  world  that,  when  we  die,  our  ashes  shall  be  equal 
to  kings',  and  our  accounts  easier,  and  our  pains  or  our 
crowns  shall  be  less.1 

So,  before  Waller  and  Jeremy  Taylor,  had   spoken 
Francis  Beaumont: 

Mortality,  behold  and  fear  ! 
What  a  change  of  flesh  is  here : 
Think  how  many  roval  bones 
Sleep  within  these  heaps  of  stones  : 
•Here  they  lye,  had  realms  and  lands, 
Who  now  want  strength  to  stir  their  hands. 
Here,  from  their  pulpits  seal'd  with  dust, 
They  preach,  '  In  greatness  is  no  trust !  ' 
Here  's  an  acre,  sown  indeed, 
With  the  richest  royallest  seed, 
That  the  earth  did  e'er  drink  in, 
Since  the  first  man  dy'd  for  sin. 
Here  the  bones  of  birth  have  ery'd, 
'  Though  gods  they  were,  as  men  they  dy'd.' 
Here  are  sands,  ignoble  things, 
Dropt  from  the  rnin'd  sides  of  kings. 
Here  's  a  world  of  pomp  and  state, 
Buried  in  dust,  once  dead  by  fate. 

The    royal    sepultures    of    Westminster    were    also 
remarkable  from   their  connection   not   only   with  the 
coronation,    but    with    the    residence    of    the  2  (,()m 
English  Princes.     The  burialplaces  which,  in  Jil'!;\Vm'!;iiI 
this  respect,  the  Abbey  most  resembles,  were   K!!V',[I|U 
those  of  the  Kings  of  Spain  and  the  Kings  of   ' 

1   Rules  of  Holy  /i>/in>/,  vol.  iv.  p.  .'!44. 


140  THE  ROYAL  TOMBS. 

Scotland.  '  In  the  Escurial,  where  the  Spanish  princes 
live  in  greatness  and  power,  and  decree  war  or  peace, 
they  have  wisely  placed  a  cemetery,  where  their  ashes 
and  their  glory  shall  sleep  till  time  shall  be  no  more.'  1 
The  like  may  be  said  of  Dunfermline  and  of  Holyrood, 
where  the  sepulchral  Abbey  and  the  Iloyal  Palace  are 
as  contiguous  as  at  Westminster.  There  has,  however, 
been  a  constant  tendency  to  separate  the  two.  The 
Escurial  is  now  almost  as  desolate  as  the  stony  wilder- 
ness of  which  it  forms  a  part.  The  vault  of  the  House 
of  Hapsburg,  in  the  Capuchin  Church  at  Vienna,  is  far 
removed  from  the  Imperial  Palace.  The  royal  race  of 
Savoy  rests  on  the  steep  heights  of  St.  Michael  and  of 
the  Superga.  The  early  Kings  of  Ireland  reposed  in 
the  now  deserted  mounds  of  Clonmacnoise,2  by  the 
lonely  windings  of  the  Shannon,  as  the  early  Kings  of 
Scotland  on  the  distant  and  sea-girt  rock  of  lona.  The 
Kings  of  France  not  only  were  not  crowned  at  St. 
Denys,  but  they  never  lived  there  —  never  came  there. 
The  town  was  a  city  of  convents.  Louis  XIV.  chose 
Versailles  for  his  residence,  because  from  the  terrace  at 
St.  Germain's  he  could  still  see  the  hated  towers  of  the 
Abbey  where  he  would  be  laid.  But  the  Kings  of 
England  never  seem  to  have  feared  the  sight  of  death. 
The  Anglo-Saxon  Kings  had  for  the  most  part  been 
buried  at  Winchester,  where  they  were  crowned,  and 
where  they  lived.  The  English  Kings,  as  soon  as  they 
became  truly  English,  were  crowned,  and  lived,  and 


1  Jeremy  Taylor,  Rules  of  floh/  Dying,  vol.  iv.  344. 

2  '  How  impressive  the  living  splendour  of  the  national  mausoleum 
of  England  on  the  hanks  of  the  Thames,  as  compared  with  the  neg- 
lected graveyard  which  holds  the  hest  hlood  of  Ireland  on  the  banks  of 
the  Shannon.'     Petrie's  remarks  on  Clouniacuoise,  quoted  iu  his  Lij'e 
by  Dr.  Stokes  (p.  33). 


BURIALS  OF   MEDUEVAL   KINGS.  141 

died  for  many  generations,  at  Westminster ;  and,  even 
since  they  have  been  interred  elsewhere,  it  is  still 
under  the  shadow  of  their  grandest  royal  residence,  in 
St.  George's  Chapel,  or  in  the  precincts  of  Windsor 
Castle.  Their  graves,  like  their  thrones,  were  in  the 
midst  of  their  own  life  and  of  the  life  of  their  people.1 

There  is  also  a  peculiar  concentration  of  interest 
attached  to  the  deaths  and  funerals  of  Kings  in  those 
days  of  our  history  with  which  wre  are  here  ., 

<*  J  :i.  Irapor- 

chiefly  concerned.  Tf  the  coronations  of  sov-  tt"1"''j'{(','r.ll 
ereigns  were  then  far  more  important  than  lk'atlls 
they  are  now,  so  were  their  funeral  pageants.  '  The 
King  never  dies'  is  a  constitutional  maxim  of  which, 
except  in  very  rare  instances,  the  truth  is  at  once 
recognised  in  all  constitutional  and  in  most  modern 
monarchies.  But  in  the  Middle  Ages,  as  has  been 
truly  remarked,  the  very  reverse  was  the  case.  '  When 
the  King  died,  the  State  seemed  to  die  also.  The 
functions  of  government  were  suspended.  Felons  were 
let  loose  from  prison  ;  for  an  offence  against  the  law 
was  also  an  offence  against  the  King's  person,  which 
might  die  with  him,  or  lie  wiped  out  in  the  contrite 
promises  of  his  last  agony.2  The  spell  of  the  King's 
peace  became  powerless.  The  nobles  rushed  to  avenge 
their  private  quarrels  in  private  warfare.  On  the  royal 
forests,  with  their  unpopular  game,  a  universal  attack 
was  made.  The  highroads  of  commerce  became  peril- 

1  See  Chapter  IV. 

2  So  William  I.:    '  Sicut  opto  salvari  et  per  misericonliam  Dei  a 
nieis  reatilms  alisolvi,  sic  oinncs  niox  carcercs  jnlieo  a  perm.'     (<)r<l<ri- 
nts  \'i/.)     Henry  1 1. 's  widow,  '  for  the  sake  of  the   soul  of   her    Lord 
Henry,'  had   offenders  of  all   kinds  discharged   from    prison   in  every 
county  in  England.    (Hoveden.)     I  owe  these  references,  as  well  as  the 
passage  itself,  to  an  unpublished  lecture  of  Professor  Vaugliaii.     Coin- 
pare  the  description  of  Koine  alter  a  pope's  decease  in  Mr.  Cartwright's 
1'afjul  Conduces,  p.  42. 


142  THE   ROYAL  TOMBS. 

ous  passes,  or  were  obstructed ;  and  a  hundred  vague 
schemes  of  ambition  were  concocted  every  day  during 
which  one  could  look  on  an  empty  throne  and  power- 
less tribunals.'  In  short,  the  funeral  of  the  sovereign 
was  the  eclipse  of  the  monarchy.  Twice  only,  perhaps, 
in  modern  times  has  this  feeling  in  any  degree  been 
reproduced,  and  then  not  in  the  case  of  the  actual  sov- 
ereign :  once  on  the  death  of  the  queenlike  Princess, 
Charlotte;  and  again  on  the  death  of  the  kinglike 
Prince,  Albert. 

In  those  early  times  of  England,  there  was  another 
meaning  of  more  sinister  import  attached  to  the  royal 

4.  Publicity    funerals.     They  furnished  the  security  to  the 

of  the  J 

Funerals.  the  successor  that  the  predecessor  was  really 
dead.  Till  the  time  of  Henry  VII.  the  royal  corpses 
lay  in  state,  and  were  carried  exposed  on  biers,  to  sat- 
isfy this  popular  demand.  More  than  once  the  body 
of  a  King,  who  had  died  under  doubtful  circumstances, 
was  laid  out  in  St.  Paul's  or  the  Abbey,  with  the  face 
exposed,  or  bare  from  the  waist  upwards,  that  the 
suspicion  of  violence  might  be  dispelled.1 

There  was  yet  beyond  this  a  general  sentiment,  in- 
tensified by  the  religious  feeling  of  the  Middle  Ages, 

5.  con-         which   brought   the   funerals   and   tombs  of 

nection  of 

the  Burials     princes  more   directly   into   connection   with 

with  the  r 

servic.es         the  buildings  where  they  were  interred.     Ihe 

of  the  J 

church.  natural  grief  of  a  sovereign,  or  of  a  people,  for 
the  death  of  a  beloved  predecessor  vents  itself  in  the 
grandeur  of  the  monuments  which  it  raises  over  their 
graves.  The  sumptuous  shrine  on  the  coast  of  Caria, 
which  Artemisia  built  for  her  husband  Mausolus,  and 
which  has  given  its  name  to  all  similar  structures  — 

1  Richard  II.,  Henry  VI.,  Edward  IV.,  aud  Richard  III.  (at  Leices- 
ter).    (Maskell,  vol.  iii.  ]J-  Ixviii.) 


BURIALS   OF   MEDIAEVAL   KINGS.  143 

the  magnificent  Taj  at  Agra  —  the  splendid  memorials 
which  commemorate  the  loss  of  the  lamented  Prince  of 
our  own  day  —  are  examples  of  the  universality  of  this 
feeling,  when  it  has  the  opportunity  of  indulging  itself, 
under  every  form  of  creed  and  climate.  But  in  the 
Middle  Ages  this  received  an  additional  impulse,  from 
the  desire  on  the  part  of  the  Kings,  or  their  survivors, 
to  establish,  through  their  monumental  buildings  and 
their  funeral  services,  a  hold,  as  it  were,  on  the  other 
wrorld.  The  supposed  date  of  the  release  of  the  soul  of 
a  Plantagenet  King  from  Purgatory  was  recorded  in 
the  English  chronicles  with  the  same  certainty  as  any 
event  in  his  life.1  And  to  attain  this  end  —  in  propor- 
tion to  the  devotional  sentiment,  sometimes  we  must 
even  say  in  proportion  to  the  weaknesses  and  vices, 
of  the  King — services  were  multiplied  and  churches 
adorned  at  every  stage  of  the  funeral,  and  with  a  view 
to  the  remotest  ages  to  which  hope  or  fear  could  look 
forward.  The  desire  to  catch  prayers  by  all  mean  •,  at 
all  times  and  places,  for  the  departed  soul,  even  led  to 
the  dismemberment  of  the  royal  corpse;  that  so,  by  a 
heart  here,  entrails  there,  and  the  remainder  elsewhere, 
the  chances  of  assistance  beyond  the  grave  might  be 
doubled  or  trebled.2 

The  sepulchral  character  of  Westminster  Abbey  thus 
became  the  frame  on  which  its  very  structure  depended. 
In  its  successive  adornments  and  enlargements,  the 
minds  of  its  royal  patrons  sought  their  permanent 
expression,  because  thev  regarded  it  as  enshrining  the 

1.  i/O  «~ 

supreme  act  of  their   lives.     The  arrangements  of  an 

1  Hogor  of  Wondover  and  Matthew  1'aris,  A.  i>.  \-2X2  (in  speaking 
of  the;  vision  of  the  release  of  liiehard  I.  ilescrilied  liv  the  Hisho]i  of 
llorhestor,  in  proaehing  at  SUtiiig!>ounie).  I  owe  the  reference  to 
1'rofessor  Yau<rhaii.  *  Ari-lt.  xxix.  181. 


144  THE    ROYAL   TOMBS. 

ancient  temple  were,  as  has  been  well  remarked,  from 
its  sacrificial  purpose,  those  of  a  vast  slaughter-house ; 
the  arrangements  of  a  Dominican  church  or  modern 
Nonconformist  chapel  are  those  of  a  vast  preaching- 
house  ;  the  arrangements  of  Westminster  Abbey  gradu- 
ally became  those  of  a  vast  tomb-house. 

The  first  beginning  of  the  Royal  Burials  at  Westmin- 
ster is  uncertain.  Sebert  and  Ethelgoda  were  believed 
sebert  ami  to  lie  by  the  entrance  of  the  Chapter  House.1 

Ethelgoda.  .      J  L 

A  faint  tradition  speaks  of  the  interment  of 

Harold  * 

iiarefoot.  Harold  Harefoot  in  Westminster.2  But  his 
body  was  dug  up  by  Hardicanute,  decapitated,  and 
afterwards  cast  into  the  adjacent  marsh  or  into  the 
Thames,  and  then  buried  by  the  Danes  in  their  grave- 
Kchvani  the  var(l>  wlicrc  now  stands  the  Church  of  St. 
confessor.  Clement  Danes.  It  was  the  grave  of  Edward 
the  Confessor  which  eventually  drew  the  other  royal 
sepulchres  around  it.3  Such  a  result  of  the  burial  of  a 
royal  saint  or  hero  has  been  almost  universal.  But 
though  his  charters  enumerate  the  royal  sepultures  as 
amongst  the  privileges  of  Westminster,  the  custom 
wiiiiam  the  grew  but  slowly.  In  the  first  instance,  it 

Conqueror  . 

at  Caen.  may  have  indicated  no  more  than  his  per- 
wiiiiam  sonal  desire  to  be  interred  in  the  edifice  whose 
Winchester,  building  he  had  watched  with  so  much  anxious 
care ;  and  his  Norman  successors  were  buried  on  the 

1  See  Chapter  I. 

2  Saxon  Ckron.  A.D.  1040  :  Widmore,  p.  11. 

3  So  the  grave  of  St.  Columlia  at  loun,  and  the  grave  of  St.  Mar- 
garet at  Duiifermliue,  became  the  centres  of  the  sepultures  of  the 
Kings  of  Scotland ;  so  the  interment  of  William  the  Silent  by  the  acci- 
dental scene  of  his  murder  at  Delft  drew  round  it  the  great   Protestant 
House  of  Orange;  so  round  St.  Louis  at  St.  Denvs  gathered  the  Kings 
of  France  ;  so  round   St.  Stanislaus  at  Cracow  the  Kings  of  Poland  ; 
so  round  Peter  the  Great  at  St.  Petersburg  the  subsequent  princes  of 
the  Komauoff  dynasty. 


BURIALS   OF   THE   NOKMAN   KINGS.  145 

same  principle,  each  in  his  own  favourite  sanctuary, 
unless  some  special  cause  intervened.  The  Conqueror 
was  buried  at  Caen,  in  the  abbey  which  he  had  dedi- 
cated to  St.  Stephen ;  William  Rufus  at  Winchester,1 
from  his  sudden  death  in  the  neighbouring  forest ;  Henry 
I.  at  Heading,  in  the  abbey  founded  out  of  his  father's 
treasure  for  his  father's  soul ;  Stephen  in  his 
abbey  at  Faversharn  ;  Henry  II.2  in  the  great  Kfn<iin«;. 

'  Stephen  at 

Angevin  Abbey  of  Fontevrault  (the  founda-  Faversham. 

J  Henry  II.  at 

tion  of  Robert  Arbrissel,  by  the  '  fountain  of   F.mtevmuit. 

Kichanl  I. 

the  robber  Evrard ').     His  eldest  son  Henry  «t  F<mtu- 

J     vrault, 

was  buried  at   Rouen.      In  that   same  city, 
because  it  was  so  heart)/  and  cordial  to  him,3  was  laid 
the  '  large 4  lion  heart '  of  Richard ;  whilst  his  bowels, 
as  his  least  honoured  parts,  lay  among  the  Poitevins, 
whom  he   least   honoured,   at    Chnluz,   where    lie    was 
killed.     But    his   body    rested    at    Fontevrault,   at    his 
father's  feet,  in  token  of  sorrow  for  his  untilial  conduct, 
to  be,  as  it  were,  his  father's  footstool  °  —  in  the  robes 
which  he  had  worn  at  his  second  coronation  Jolm  .(t 
at  Westminster.6    John's  wife,   Isabella,  was  ^'""•st"'- 
interred  at  Fontevrault,"  and  his  own  heart  was  placed 

1  Ortl.  Vit.  (A.  n.  1110),  x.  14,  by  a  confusion  makes  it  Westminster. 

2  Uishangor,  p.  428;  Iluveileu,  p.  054. 

3  Fuller's  C/inrrl,  IIixti;rt/,  \.i>.  11S<». 

4  (irossitudiue  pra'stans.     See  ,1/r//.  xxix.  210. 

"  In  :i  work  published  at  Anders  in  1800  ( /.'. \l,!,,ii/t  <!<•  l-'unti  rrmi/t, 
Xnltri-  I/i.<iti>rii/n<>,  p.  76),  by  Lieut.  .Malifaud,  it  is  stated  that  the  bones 
of  Ku-Iiard  Leathered  together  by  an  inliabitant  of  Fontevrault ,  <>n 
the  spoliation  of  the  tombs  in  17H.'!,  were  <jiven  to  F.ntrland,  '  <•<  /•</»'>•»  nl 
(iiij<nn-<riiiii  ihuifi  rAltl>tn/f  de  \\'<'fitiitinsli-r.'  Tliis  is  without  foundation. 
The  heart,  under  an  eHiLcy  of  the  King,  was  found  in  the  i-lioir  of  liouen 
Cathedral  <m  .Itilv  •'!!,  IS.'SS,  and  is  now  in  the  .Museum  at  Koiien. 
(Arcftnoloijid,  xxix.  2<J.'i.)  The  body  of  Prince  Henry  was  found  there 
in  1800.  G  Aii'/iiii  Siirrti,  i.  :!04.  See  Chapter  II. 

7   For  a  full  account  of  the   fate  of  the  monuments  at    Koiitcvrault 
down  to  the  jiresent  time,  see  M.  Malil'aud's  work,  pp.  70,  77. 
VOL.  i.—  10 


146  THE  ROYAL  TOMBS. 

there  in  a  golden  cup ;  but  he  himself  was  laid  at  Wor- 
cester, for  a  singularly  characteristic  reason.  With 
that  union  of  superstition  and  profaneness  so  common 
in  the  religious  belief  of  the  Middle  Ages,  he  was 
anxious  to  elude  after  death  the  demons  whom  he  had 
so  faithfully  served  in  life.  For  this  purpose  he  not 
only  gave  orders  to  wrap  his  body  in  a  monk's  cowl, 
but  to  bury  it  between  two  saints.  The  royal  cathedral 
of  Worcester,  which  John  had  specially  favoured  in 
life,  possessed  two  Saxon  saints,  in  close  juxtaposition  ; 
and  between  these  two,  Wulfstan  and  Oswald,  the 
wicked  King  was  laid. 

But  meanwhile  an  irresistible  instinct  had  been 
drawing  the  Norman  princes  towards  the  race  of  their 
English  subjects,  and  therefore  towards  the  dust  of  the 
last  Saxon  King.  Along  with  the  annual  commemora- 
tion of  the  victory  of  the  Normans  at  Hastings,  and  of 
the  Danes  at  Assenden,  were  celebrated  in  the  Abbey 
the  anniversaries  of  Emma,1  the  Confessor's  mother, 
and  of  Ethelred  his  father.  Edith,  his  wife,  '  of  vener- 
able memory,'  lay  beside  him.  And  now  to  join  them 
Qlieen  came  the  'good  Queen  Maud,'  daughter  of 
Malcolm  Canmore  and  Margaret,  and  thus 
niece  of  Edgar  and  granddaughter  of  Edward  Atheling, 
who  had  awakened  in  the  heart  of  Henry  I.  a  feeling 
towards  her  Anglo-Saxon  kinsfolk  such  as  no  other  of 
the  Conqueror's  family  had  known.  The  importance 
of  the  marriage  is  indicated  by  the  mass  of  elaborate 
scruples  that  had  to  be  set  aside  to  accomplish  it.  She, 
a  veiled  nun,  had  become  a  wedded  wife  for  this  great 

1  Coimietudines  of  Abbot  Ware  (pp.  566,  568,  582,  583,  587,  590). 
These  celebrations  may  have  been  instituted  only  in  the  time  of  Henry 
III.,  but  they  are  probably  of  earlier  date.  Edith  is  called  '  Collaterals 
uxor.' 


BURIALS  OF  THE  NORMAN   KINGS.  147 

object.  It  was  supposed  to  be  a  fulfilment  of  tbe  Con- 
fessor's last  prophetic  apologue,  in  which  he  described 
the  return  of  the  severed  branch  to  the  parent  tree.1 
Henry's  own  sepulchral  abbey  at  Reading  was  built  by 
him  chietly  to  expiate  his  father's  sins  against  the 
English.2  His  royal  chapel  at  Windsor  bore  the  name 
of  the  Confessor,  till  it  was  dedicated  by  Edward  III. 
to  St.  George.3  He  and  she  received  from  the  Nor- 
mans the  derisive  epithets  of  '  Goodric '  and  '  Godiva.' 4 
Her  own  name  was  Edith,5  after  her  grand -aunt,  the 
Confessor's  wife.  In  deference  to  Norman  prejudices 
she  changed  it  to  '  Matilda.'  But  she  devoted  herself 
with  undisguised  ardour  to  the  Abbey  where  her  kins- 
man Edward  and  her  namesake  Edith  lay  buried. 
Often  she  came  there,  in  haircloth  and  barefooted,  to 
pay  her  devotions.6  She  increased  its  relics  by  the  gift 
of  a  large  part  of  the  hair  of  Mary  Magdalene."  The 
honour  of  her  sepulture  was  claimed  by  the  old  Anglo- 
Saxon  sanctuary  at  Winchester,8  by  the  Abbey  of  Read- 
ing,9 and  by  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Paul's.10  But 

,.    .  May  1,  1118. 

there  is  no  reason  to  doubt  the  tradition  that 

she  lies  on  the  south  side  of  the  Confessor's  Shrine,11 

1  See  Chapters  I.  and  III.  -  Rudborne,  Anrjlia  Sacra,  i.  262. 

3  Annals  of  Windsor,  p.  27. 

4  See  William  of  Malmeslmry,  p.  lf>6.      Knyghton,  c.  2375,  says 
Henry's  nickname  was  'Godrych  Godefadyr.' 

5  Ofd.  Vit.  A.  D   1118.    Her  brothers,  in  like  manner,  had  almost  all 
Saxon  names  —  Edgar,  Edward,  Ethelred. 

tt  Ibid.  p.  712.     See  Chapter  I. 

7  Dart,  i.  37  ;  Eordun,  Scotichronicon,  pp.  480,  642. 

8  Rndborne,  p.  277.  9  Strickland's  Queen*,  i.  187. 

10  Langtoft  (Wright),  i.  462. 

11  Wacerley  Ann. ;  Onl.  Vit.  \.  n.  1118. — The  statement  is  that  she 
was  first  buried  at  the  entrance  of  the  Chapter  House,  and  then  re- 
moved by  Henry  III.  to  the  side  of  the  Confessor's   Shrine.     Fordun 
gives  it  as  '  post  magnum  altare  in  oratorio.'     It  has  sometimes  been 
alleged,  iu  confirmation  of  this,  that  at  the  north-west  angle  of  the 


148  THE  ROYAL  TOMBS. 

and  is  thus  the  first  royal  personage  so  interred  since 
the  troubles  of  the  Conquest.1 

Henry  II.  carried  the  veneration  for  Edward's  re- 
mains a  step  farther.  At  the  instigation  of  Becket,  he 
procured  from  Pope  Alexander  II.  the  Bull  of  Canoni- 
sation, which  Innocent  II.  had  refused.2  The  Abbot 
Lawrence  preached  a  sermon,  enumerating  the  virtues 
and  miracles  of  the  Confessor.  Osbert  de  Clare,  the 
Prior,  who  had  already  made  an  unsuccessful  expedi- 
tion to  Borne  for  the  same  object,  under  his  predecessor 
Gervase,  compiled  the  account  out  of  which  was  ulti- 
mately composed  the  Life  of  the  Confessor  by  Ailred, 
Abbot  of  Bievaulx,  and  brought  back  the  Bull  of  Ca- 
First  trans-  nonisation  in  triumph.  At  midnight  on  the 
Edwardfthe  13th  °f  October,  1163,  Lawrence,  in  his  new- 
oct.'T^01'  born  dignity  of  mitred  Abbot,  accompanied 
by  Becket,  opened  the  grave  before  the  high 
altar,  and  saw — it  was  said,  in  complete  preservation 
—  the  body  of  the  dead  King.  Even  the  long,  white, 
curling  beard  was  still  visible.  The  ring  of  St.  John 
was  taken  out  and  deposited  as  a  relic.3  The  vest- 
ments (with  less  reverence  than  we  should  think  per- 
missible) were  turned  into  three  splendid  copes.  An 

pavement,  by  Edward  T.'s  tomb,  was  read  tbe  word  Reginct,  and  that 
she  was  laid  underneath  the  pavement  on  which  his  tomb  was  after- 
wards raised.  But  the  inscription  is  (as  I  have  ascertained  by  careful 
examination)  a  mere  fragment  of  a  slab  removed  from  elsewhere,  to 
make  the  covering  of  what  is  evidently  the  mere  substructure  of  Ed- 
ward I.'s  tomb;  and  the  words  upon  it  are  MINIS.  REGINI  —  a  portion 
of  a  broken  inscription.  But  the  statement  of  Abbot  Ware  (Consue- 
tudines,  p.  566),  that  Matilda  was  on  the  south  and  Edith  on  the  north 
side  of  the  Shrine  is  decisive  both  as  to  the  fact  and  the  position  of  the 
grave.  See  also  Smith's  Westminster,  p.  155. 

1  The  anniversary  of  her  daughter,  the  Empress  Maude,  was  cele- 
brated in  the  Abbey.     (Ware,  p.  568.) 

2  See  Akerman,  i.  109.  3   Gleanings,  p.  132. 


THE   TOMBS  OF   THE   NORMANS.  149 

Irishman  and  a  clerk  from  Winchester  were  cured  of 
some  malady,  supposed  to  be  demoniacal  possession. 
The  whole  ceremony  ended  with  the  confirmation  of 
the  celebrated  Gilbert  Folliott  as  Bishop  of  London.1 

The  final  step  was  taken  by  Henry  III.  It  may  be 
that  the  idea  of  making  the  Shrine  of  Edward  the 
centre  of  the  burialplace  of  his  race  did  not  occur  to 
him  till  after  he  had  already  become  interested  in  the 
building.  His  first  work  —  what  was  called  '  the  new 
work  '  -  —  was  not  the  church  itself,  but  an  addition  sug- 
gested by  the  general  theological  sentiment  of  the  time. 
The  beginning  of  the  thirteenth  century  was  remark- 
able for  the  immense  development  given,  by  the  preach- 
ing of  St.  Bernard,  to  the  worship  of  the  Virgin  Mary.2 
In  architecture  it  was  exhibited  by  the  simultaneous 
prolongation  of  almost  every  great  cathedral  Foundation 

of  tlie  Lady 

into  an  eastern  sanctuary,  a  new  place  of  ch:ii>«-i, 
honour  behind  the  altar,  'the  Lady  Chapel.'  i-".w. 
Such  a  chapel  was  dedicated  at  the  eastern  extremity 
of  the  Abbey  by  the  young  King  Henry  III.,  on  Whit- 
sun  Eve,3  the  day  before  his  coronation.  The  first 
offering  laid  upon  its  altar  were  the  spurs  worn  by 
the  King  in  that  ceremony.4  Underneath  was  buried 
Abbot  Barking,  who  probably  claimed  the  merit  of 
having  been  his  adviser.  His  abbacy  was  long  re- 
garded in  the  convent  as  the  passage  from  an  old 
world  to  a  new.5 

1  Hiilfrn-ay,  p.  44.  —  lie  was  translated  from  Hereford,  the  Hist 
instance  of  a  canonical  translation  of  an  Kn^lish  liishop.  (I,e  Neve's 
/'us//,  ii.  -2*->.) 

-  Moiitaleml.ert's  ///.</(,/,>-  ,/,-  S/,>.  KHxiiLrtl,.  p.  :M.  — The  -'inUe  of 
tlie  Virgin  deposited  in  the  AM  icy  (see  Chapter  I.)  was,  like  that  at 
Mount  Atlio-,  used  for  averting  the  perils  of  childbirth,  and  was  often 
employed  for  that  purpose  l>\  Queen  I'liilippa.  (\Vidinore,  p.  <>.">  ) 

:!  See  Chap.  II.  4   I'auli,  i.  :>\7.  5  See  Chapter  V. 


150  THE  ROYAL  TOMBS. 

Henry's  long  reign  was  a  marked  epoch,  alike  for 
England  and  for  the  Abbey.  It  was  the  first  which 
Rei-n  of  can  ke  called  pacific,1  partly  from  his  defects, 
partly  from  his  virtues.  He  was  the  first 
English  King  —  that  is  to  say  (like  George  III.)  the 
first  of  his  family  born  in  England  and  no  longer  liv- 
ing in  a  continental  dependency.  This  great  boon  of 
a  race  of  Princes  who  could  look  on  England  as  their 
home,  had  been  conferred  on  our  Kings  and  on  our 
country  by  the  losses  of  his  father,  John  '  Lackland.' 

Sterile  and  obscure  as  is  that  portion  of  our  annals,  it  is 
there  that  we  must  seek  for  the  origin  of  our  freedom,  our 
prosperity,  and  our  glory.  Then  it  was  that  the  great  Eng- 
lish people  was  formed,  that  the  national  character  began  to 
exhibit  those  peculiarities  which  it  has  ever  since  retained, 
and  that  our  fathers  became  emphatically  islanders  —  island- 
ers not  merely  in  geographical  position,  but  in  their  politics, 
their  feelings,  and  their  manners.  Then  first  appeared  with 
distinctness  that  Constitution  which  has  ever  since,  through 
all  changes,  preserved  its  identity ;  that  Constitution  of 
which  all  the  other  free  constitutions  in  the  world  are 
copies,  and  which,  in  spite  of  some  defects,  deserves  to  be 
regarded  as  the  best  under  which  any  great  society  has  ever 
yet  existed  during  many  ages.  Then  it  was  that  the  House 
of  Commons,  the  archetype  of  all  the  representative  assem- 
blies which  now  meet,  either  in  the  Old  or  in  the  ISTew 
World,  held  its  first  sittings.  Then  it  was  that  the  Com- 
mon Law  rose  to  the  dignity  of  a  science,  and  rapidly  be- 
came a  not  unworthy  rival  of  the  imperial  jurisprudence. 
Then  it  was  that  the  courage  of  those  sailors  who  manned 
the  rude  barks  of  the  Cinque  Ports  first  made  the  flag  of 
England  terrible  on  the  seas.  Then  it  was  that  the  most 
ancient  colleges  which  still  exist  at  both  the  great  national 

1  This  is  well  brought  out  in  Rogers's  Histury  of  Prices,  i.  3. 


THE  REBUILDING  OF  THE  ABBEY.      151 

seats  of  learning  were  founded.  Then  was  formed  that  lan- 
guage, less  musical  indeed  than  the  languages  of  the  South, 
but  in  force,  in  richness,  in  aptitude  for  all  the  highest  pur- 
poses of  the  poet,  the  philosopher,  and  the  orator,  inferior  to 
that  of  Greece  alone.  Then  appeared  the  tirst  faint  dawn  of 
that  noble  literature,  the  most  splendid  and  the  most  durable 
of  the  many  glories  of  England.1 

Then  too  arose,  in  its  present  or  nearly  in  its  present 
form,  the  building  which  was  destined  to  combine  all 
these  together,  the  restored  Abbey  of  Westminster  — 
'  the  most  lovely  and  loveable  thing  in  Christendom.' 2 
It  sprang,  in  the  first  instance,  out  of  the  per-  English 

,          „  feelings  of 

sonal  sentiment,  unconsciously  fostered  by  Hemy  in. 
these  general  influences,  of  the  young  King  towards 
his  Anglo-Saxon  ancestors.  Henry  prided  himself  on 
his  descent  from  Alfred,  through  the  good  Matilda. 
He  determined  to  take  up  his  abode  in  Westminster, 
beside  the  Confessor's  tomb.  In  the  Abbey  was  solemn- 
ised his  own  marriage  with  Eleanor  of  Provence,  as 
well  as  that  of  his3  brother  Richard,  Earl  of  Cornwall, 
with  his  second  wife  Sanda,  sister  of  Eleanor,  —  and 
of4  his  second  son  Edward,  Earl  of  Lancaster,  to  Ave- 
lina,  daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Albemarle.  His  sons  were 
the  first  of  the  English  Princes  who  were  called  by 
Anglo-Saxcn  names.  His  first-born  —  the  first  Prince 
ever  born  at  Westminster,  and  therefore  called,  after 
it,  Edward  of  Westminster5  —  received  his  name  from 

1  Macaulay's  History  uf  England,  vol.  i.  p.  47. 

-  So  called  by  one  well  qualified  to  judge,  Mr.  Street  (Essay  on  thf 
Influence  of  I'*oreii/n  Art  on  Enrjlish  Architecture  in  the  Church  and  the. 
World,  p.  402). 

"  Nov.  "2-2  or  2.'5,  1243;  Hot.  1'arl.  28   lien.  Ill 

4  April  9,  1269,  Hurl.  MS.  5:!0.  fol.  (50. 

5  He   was  sometimes  called   Edward    III.,    reckoning   Edward    the 
Elder  and  Edward  the  Confessor  as  the  first  and  second.     (O(nis  Chro 
nicorum,  ]>.  .37.) 


152  THE   ROYAL   TOMBS. 

the  Anglo-Saxon  patron  of  Westminster ;  and  was  the 
first  of  that  long  series  of  'Edwards;  which,  though 
broken  now  and  then  by  the  necessities  of  intervening 
dynasties,  is  the  one  royal  name  that  constantly  reap- 
pears to  assert  its  unchanging  hold  on  the  affections 
of  the  English  people.  His  second  son  was  in  like 
manner  named  Edmund,  after  the  other  royal  Anglo- 
Saxon  saint,  in  whose  abbey  the  King  himself  died, 
and  to  whom  he  had  in  life  paid  reverence  only  second 
to  that  due  to  St.  Edward. 

The  concentration  of  thi,s  English  Edwardian  passion 
upon  the  Abbey  of  Westminster  was  encouraged  by 
ms  iniita-  many  converging  circumstances  in  the  reign 
st.  Den  vs.  of  Henry  III.  It  is  possible  that,  as  the  visit 
of  the  Saxon  ambassadors  to  Reims  may  have  led  to 
the  first  idea  of  a  Royal  Abbey  in  the  mind  of  the 
Confessor,  so  the  rebuilding  and  re-embellishinent  of 
the  Abbey  of  St.  Denys  by  Louis  IX.  suggested  the 
idea  of  a  place  of  royal  sepulture  to  the  mind  of  Henry 
III.1  Before  that  time  the  Kings  of  France,  like 
the  Kings  of  England,  had  been  buried  in  their  own 
private  vaults ;  thenceforth  they  were  buried  round 
the  tomb  of  Dagobert. 

Again  the  erection  of  a  new  and  splendid  Church 
was  the  natural  product  of  Henry's  passionate  devotion 
Hisdevo.  to  sacred  observances,  strong  out  of  all  pro- 
portion to  the  natural  feebleness  of  his  cha- 
racter. Even  St.  Louis  seemed  to  him  but  a  lukewarm 
nationalist.  He  kept  the  French  peers  in  Paris  so 
long  waiting,  by  stopping  to  hear  mass  at  every  church 
he  passed,  that  Louis  caused  all  the  churches  on  the 
road  to  be  shut.  When  in  France,  he  lived  not  in 

1  This  rivalry  with  St.  Denys  appears  in  his  anxiety  to  outdo  it  b} 
the  relic  of  the  lloly  Blood.  (Matthew  Paris,  p.  735.) 


THE  REBUILDING  OF  THE  ABBEY.      153 

the  royal  palace,  but  in  a  monastery.  On  Henry's 
declaring  that  he  could  not  stay  in  a  place  which 
was  under  an  interdict,  the  French  King  complained, 
and  added,  '  You  ought  to  hear  sermons,  as  well  as 
attend  mass.' l  '  I  had  rather  see  my  friend  than  hear 
him  talked  about,' 2  was  the  reply  of  the  enthusiastic 
Henry.  He  would  not  be  content  with  less  than  three3 
masses  a  day,  and  held  fast  to  the  priest's  hand  during 
the  service.4 

With  this  English  and  devotional  sentiment  the 
King  combined  a  passionate  addiction  to  art  in  all 
its  forms,  which  carried  him  far  beyond  the  nisaddir- 

J  lion  to 

limits  of  his  own  country.  His  visits  to  f»ivigu  ••"•*. 
France  recalled  to  him  the  glories  of  Amiens,  Beauvais, 
and  lieims.5  His  marriage  with  Eleanor6  of  Provence 
opened  the  door  for  the  influx  of  foreign  princes, 
ecclesiastics,  and  artists  into  London.  The  Savoy 
Palace  was  their  centre. 

Of  this  union  of  religious  feeling  with  foreign  and 

O  ri  O 

artistic  tendencies,  the  whole  Abbey,  as  rebuilt  by 
Henry,  is  a  monument.  He  determined  that  his  new 
Church  was  to  be  incomparable  for  beauty,  even  in 
that  great  age  of  art.7  Its  Chapter  House,  its  orna- 
ments, down  to  the  lecterns,  were  to  be  superlative 
of  their  kind.  On  it  foreign  painters  and  sculptors 

1  Kishauger,  ('hronicn,  p.  75;  Trivet,  p.  L'SO.     (Panli,  i.  S4^.) 

2  Rishatiger  and  Trivet,  iltid.  —  Tin-  author  of  the  Opus  C'tii'anicorinn 
(p.  .30)  gives  this  as  Henry's  reply  to  a  preaching  friar,  who  was  angry 
at  the  Ming's  delay  in  coining  to  his  sermon. 

3  Kour  or  five.     (O/ms  Chroiiicoruni,  ]>.  •'{.">.) 

4  Kishanger,  ( '/minim,  p.  75.  •'   Gletmings,  20. 

0  The  arms  of  her  father,  the  Karl  of  I'rovence,  are  sculptured  in 
the  south  aisle  of  the  Nave,  ami  were  painted  in  the  windows  of  the 
Chapter-house  and  elsewhere.  (Samlforil,  95.) 

7  \Vykes,  ]>.  S4.  See  Chapter  V.  'Mini-  piilclmt  udinis '  is  the 
phrase  used  of  ii;  in  a  document  in  the  Archives  of  St.  Paul's. 


154  THE   ROYAL  TOMBS. 

were  invited  to  spend  their  utmost  skill.  '  Peter  the 
Roman  citizen '  was  set  to  work  on  the  Shrine,  where 
his  name  can  still  be  read.  The  mosaics  were  from 
Borne,  brought  by  the  Abbot,  who  now  by  his  newly- 
won  exemption  from  the  jurisdiction  of  the  see  of 
London  had  been  forced  to  make  his  journey  to  the 
imperial  city  for  the  sake  of  obtaining  the  Papal  confir- 
mation.1 The  pavement  thus  formed  and  the  twisted 
columns  which  stand  round  the  Shrine,  exactly  resemble 
the  like  ornaments  of  the  same  date,  in  the  Basilicas  of 
St.  John  Lateran,  St.  Paul,  St.  Laurence,  and  St.  Clement 
at  liome.  Mosaics  and  enamel  were  combined  through- 
out in  a  union  found  nowhere  else  in  England.  Many 
of  the  details  of  the  tombs  of  Henry  III.  and  Edward 
the  Confessor  are  strictly  classical.  The  architectural 
style  of  this  portion  of  the  building  is  French  rather 
than  English.  The  radiation  of  the  polygonal  chapels 
round  the  Choir  and  the  bar  tracery  of  the  windows 
are  especially  French.2  The  arrangement  to  which 
the  King  was  driven,  perhaps,  from  the  necessity  of 
providing  space  for  the  new  Shrine,  is  Spanish.3 
Eleanor  of  Castile,  his  daughter-in-law,  must  have 
recognised  in  the  Choir,  brought  far  into  the  Nave,  the 
likeness  of  the  '  Coro '  in  the  cathedrals  of  her  native 
country. 

In  the  prosecution  of  his  work  another  less  pleasing 

feature  of  the  King's  character  was  brought  into  play. 

HIS  extra-     He  was  a  Prince  of  almost  proverbial  extrava- 

llue'       gance.     His  motto  was,  '  Qui   non  dat   quod 

1  See  Chapter  V.  ;  Gleanings  of  \Vestminster  Abbey,  p.  60;  and  Fer- 
gussou's  Handbook,  ii.  18. 

2  See  Gleanings,  pp.  19-24;  and  Mr.  Street,  On  the  Influence  of  For 
eign  Art  in  Enr/Iand,  p.  402. 

3  Street's  Gothic  Architecture  in  Spain,  p.  418. 


THE   REBUILDING  OF  THE  ABBF.Y.  155 

habet,  non  accipit  ille  quod  optat.'1  Recklessly  did 
he  act  on  this  principle  always,  and  never  more  so 
than  in  erecting  the  Abbey.  Unlike  most  cathedrals, 
it  was  built  entirely  at  the  cost  of  the  Crown.  The 
Royal  Abbey,  as  in  the  Confessor's  time  so  in  Henry's, 
is  absolutely  a  royal  gift.  The  sums,  in  our  money 
amounting  to  half-a-million,  were  snatched  here  and 
there,  from  high  quarters  or  from  low,  with  desperate 
avidity.  There  was  a  special  office  for  the  receipts. 
The  widow  of  a  Jew  furnished  £2590 ; 2  the  vacancy 
of  the  Abbot's  seat  at  Westminster  100  marks.  A 
fair  was  established  in  Tothill  Fields,  with  a  monopoly 
for  this  sole  purpose.  The  King  himself  took  out  of 
other  abbeys  what  lie  had  spent  on  Westminster,  by 
living  on  them  to  ease  the  expenses  of  his  own  main- 
tenance,3 and  .again  took  from  the  Abbey  itself  the 
jewels  which  he  had  given  to  it,  and  pawned  them 
for  his  own  necessities.  The  enormous  exactions  have 
left  their  lasting  traces  on  the  English  Constitution, 
in  no  less  a  monument  than  the  House  of  Commons, 
which  rose  into  existence  as  a  protest  against  the 
King's  lavish  expenditure  on  the  mighty  Abbey  which 
it  confronts.4 

The    rise    of    the   whole    institution    thus    forms   a 
new   epocli  at   once    in    English    history  and    English 
architecture.     With  the  usual  disregard  which  nt.nil,mioll 
each  generation,  in  the  Middle  Ages  far  more  ".',,, ,','.','.,', <l'1 
than  in  our  own,  entertains  towards  the  taste  u'4'' 
of  those  who  have  gone  before,  the  massive  venerable 
pile,  consecrated  by  the  recollections  of  the  Confessor 

1  Walpolo's  Anfrfioffft  of  Puiiil/iii/  (Wornuin),  p.  UO  ;  Hardy,  Prof- 
ace  to  the    Liliemte  Holla  of  Kimj  Joint,  xii.  note  ( 1 ). 
-  Akorniaii,  i.  ^41. 
3  Fuller,  book  iii. ;  An-h.  xiii.  3fi,  37.  4  Soo  Chapter  V- 


156  THE   ROYAL  TOMBS. 

and  the  Conqueror,  was  torn  down,  as  of  no  worth  at 
all,  '  iiullius  omniuo  valoris.' 1 

Ecclesiam  stravit  istam  qui  tune  renovavit, 

was  the  inscription  once  written  on  Henry's  tomb, 
The  New  which  described  this  mediaeval  vandalism. 
He  rebuilt  exactly  as  far  as  the  Confessor 
had  built,  A  fragment  of  the  nave  alone  was  left 
standing.  But  the  central  tower,  the  choir,  the  tran- 
septs, the  cloisters,  all  disappeared  ; 2  and  in  their  place 
arose  a  building,  which  the  first  founder  would  as 
little  have  recognised,  as  the  Norman  style  would  have 
been  recognised  by  Sebert,  or  the  style  of  Wren  by  the 
Plantagenets. 

It  was  a  '  new  minster,' 3  of  which  St.  Edward 
became  the  patron  saint,  almost  to  the  exclusion  of 
The  shrine  St.  Peter.4  For  him  the  Shrine  was  prepared 
confessor,  as  the  centre  of  all  this  magnificence.  It 
was  erected,  like  all  the  shrines  of  great  local  saints, 
at  the  east  of  the  altar,  by  a  new  and  strange  arrange- 
ment, as  peculiar  to  the  thirteenth  century  as  the  nu- 
merous theological  doctrines  which  then  first  assumed 
consistency  and  shape.  But,  in  order  to  leave  stand- 
ing the  Lady  Chapel,  which  the  King  had  already  built 
in  his  youth,  the  high  altar  was  moved  westward  to 
its  present  central  position.  A  mound  of  earth,  the 
last  funeral  '  tumulus '  in  England,  was  erected  between 
this  and  the  Lady  Chapel,  and  on  its  summit  was  raised 
the  tomb  in  which  the  body  of  the  Confessor  was  to 

1  Wykes,  p.  89. 

2  Matthew  Paris,  p.  661.     The  end  of  Henrv  III.'s  work  can  be 
traced  immediately  at  the  west  of  the  crossing.     Gleaitinyn.  31. 

3  Capgrave,  p  8!). 

4  Redman's  Henry  V.,  p.  69  ;  Smith's  Westminster,  p.  60. 


Si  2 


(ED'iVARD 
THE 

CONFESSOR) 


o   — 
O 


"DUCHESS  OF 
SUFFOLK 

°J.  OF  ELTHAM 
CE.  DE  BOIIUN 
(>7.  Edmund) 

°Broea3 
°\V.  DE  VALENCE 


<-    II  HENRY    III.'S    "5- 
-        CHILDREN         5 


(St.  Iknvdict) 


(si 

i 

K> 


|  Wcnlock 


I  Heiili'i/         |!  KitHiirjton 


TOMBS   IN   THE   CHAPEL   OF   THE   KINfiS 


158  THE   ROYAL  TOMBS. 

be  laid.1  On  each  side,  standing  on  the  two  twisted 
pillars  which  now  support  the  western  end  of  the 
Shrine,  were  statues  of  the  Confessor  and  St.  John  as 
the  mysterious  pilgrim.  Round  the  Choir  was  hung 
arras,  representing  on  one  side  the  thief  and  Hugolin, 
on  the  other  the  royal  coronations2  The  top  of  the 
Shrine  was  doubtless  adorned  with  a  splendid  taber- 
nacle, instead  of  the  present  woodwork.  The  lower 
part  was  rich  with  gilding  and  colours.  The  inscrip- 
tion, now  detected  only  at  intervals,  ran  completely 
round  it,  ascribing  the  workmanship  to  Peter  of  Rome, 
and  celebrating  the  Confessor's  virtues.  The  arches 
underneath  were  ready  for  the  patients,  who  came  to 
ensconce  themselves  there  for  the  sake  of  receiving 
from  the  sacred  corpse  within  the  deliverance  from 
the  '  King's  Evil,'  which  the  living  sovereign  was 
believed3  to  communicate  by  his  touch.  An  altar 
stood  at  its  western  end,  of  which  all  trace  has  dis- 
appeared, but  for  which  a  substitute  has  ever  since 
existed,  at  the  time  of  the  Coronations,  in  a  wooden 
movable  table.4  At  the  eastern  end  of  the  Shrine 
two  steps  still  remain,  deeply  hollowed  out  by  the 
knees  of  the  successive  pairs  of  pilgrims  who  knelt  at 
that  spot.5 

1  Originally  the  Shrine  was  probably  visible  all  down  the  church. 
Not  till  the  time  of  Henry  VI.  was  raised  the  screen  which  now  con- 
ceals it.  On  the  summit  of  the  screen  stood  a  vast  crucifix,  with  the 
usual  accompanying  figures,  and  those  of  the  two  Apostles,  St.  Peter 
ami  St.  Paul.  See  Gleanings,  plates  xx.  and  xxvii. 

-  Till  1644.     Weever,  p.  45. 

3  This  was  the  one  remark  made  on  the  Shrine  by  Addison  — '  We 
were  then  shown  Edward  the  Confessor's  tomb,  upon  which  Sir  Roger 
acquainted  us  that  he  was  the  first  who  touched  for  the  Evil.'  (Specta- 
tor, 321.)  4  Dart,  i.  54. 

5  A  fragment  of  the  Shrine,  found  in  repairing  the  walls  of  West- 
minster school  in  1868,  was  replaced  in  its  original  position,  after  a 
separation  of  three  centuries. 


TOMB   OF   HENRY   III.  159 

That  corpse  was  now  to  be  '  translated '  from  the 
coffin  in  which  Henry  II.  had  laid  it,  with  a  pomp 
which  was  probably  suggested  to  the  King  by  The  second 
the  recollection  of  the  grandest  ceremony  of  ^ls|»tion. 
the  kind  that  England  had  ever  seen,  at  which  im 
he  in  his  early  boyhood  had  assisted  —  the  translation 
of  the  remains  of  St.  Thomas  of  Canterbury.1  It  was 
on  the  same  day  of  the  month  that  had  witnessed  the 
former  removal  on  the  occasion  of  Edward's  canonisa- 
tion. The  King  had  lived  to  see  the  completion  of  the 
whole  Choir  and  east  end  of  the  church.  He  was  grow- 
ing old.  His  family  were  all  gathered  round  him,  as 
round  a  Christmas  hearth,2  for  the  last  time  together  — 
Richard  his  brother,  Edward  and  Edmund,  his  two  sons, 
Edward  with  Eleanor  just  starting  for  Palestine  :  '  As 
near  a  way  to  heaven,'  she  said,  '  from  Syria  as  from 
England  or  Spain.'  They  supported  the  coffin  of  the 
Confessor,3  and  laid  him  in  the  spot  where  (with  the 
exception  of  one  short  interval)  he  has  remained  ever 
since.  The  day  was  commemorated  by  its  selection  as 
the  usual  time  when  the  King  held  his  Courts  and 
Parliaments. 

Behind  the  Shrine,  where  now  stands  the  Chantry  of 
Henry  V.,  were  deposited  the  sacred  relics,  presented  to 
the  Kins  twenty  years  before  by  his  favourite 

IMics,  lL'47. 

Order  the  Templars.     Amongst  them  may  bo 
noticed  the  tooth  of  St.  Athanasius,   the  stone  which 
was  believed  to  show  the    footprint    of  the  ascending 
Saviour,4  and  (most  highly  prized  of  allj  a  phial  con- 


1   Memorials  of  Canterbury,  p.  1  !).'$.  -  Kidijway,  p.  82. 

:!   \Vykes,  ]).  88;   Uidinvay,  p.  <'>:>. 

4  M.  Paris,  p.  708;  Widmoro,  p.  f>4.  One  of  those  footprints  is 
still  shown  in  the  Mosijun  or  Chmvli  of  the  Ascension  on  Mount  ( llhet; 
another  j.s  iu  the  Mosque,  of  Omar. 


THE    ROYAL   TOMBS. 

tain  ing  some  drops  of  the  Holy  Blood.  This  was  car- 
ried in  state  by  the  King  himself  from  St.  Paul's  to  the 
Abbey ;  and  it  was  on  the  occasion  of  its  presentation, 
and  of  Prince  Edward's  knighthood,  that  Matthew  Paris, 
the  monk  of  St.  Albans,  was  present  (much  as  a  modern 
photographer  or  artist  attends  a  state  ceremony  at 
royal  command),  to  give  an  exact  account  of  what  he 
saw,  and  to  be  rewarded  afterwards  by  a  dinner  in  the 
newly-finished  refectory.1 

With  the  Templars,  who  gave  these  precious  offerings, 
it  had  been  the  King's  original  intention  to  have  been 
buried  in  the  Temple  Church.  But  his  interest  in  the 
Abbey  grew  during  the  fifty  years  that  he  had  seen  it 
in  progress,  and  his  determination  became  fixed  that  it 
should  be  the  sepulchre  of  himself  and  of  the  whole  Plan- 
tagenet  race.  The  short,  stout,  ungainly  old  man,  with 
the  blinking  left  eye,2  and  the  curious  craft  with  which 
he  wound  himself  out  of  the  many  difficulties  of  his 
long  and  troublesome  reign,  such  as  made  his  contem- 
poraries regard  him  on  both  accounts  as  the  lynx  fore- 
told by  Merlin,3  was  at  last  drawing  to  his  end.  '  Quiet 
King  Henry  III.,  our  English  Nestor  (not  for  depth  of 
brains  but  for  length  of  life),  who  reigned  fifty-six  years, 
in  which  time  he  buried  all  his  contemporary  princes  in 
Christendom  twice  over.  All  the  months  in  the  year 
-may  be  in  a  manner  carved  out  of  an  April  day:  hot, 
cold,  dry,  moist,  fair,  foul  weather  —  just  the  character 
of  this  King's  life  —  certain  only  in  uncertainty;  sor- 
rowful, successful,  in  plenty,  in  penury,  in  wealth,  in 
want,  conquered,  conqueror.' 4 

1  M.  r.iris,  pp.  735-9. 

2  Kishanger,  CJtronica,  p.  75  ;  Trivet,  p.  281 -. 

3  Rishanger,  Chmnirn,  p.  75. 

4  Puller's  Church  History,  A.  u.  }~2~G. 


TOMB   OF    HENRY   III.  161 

Domestic  calamities  crowded  upon  him  :  the  absence 
of  his  son  Edward,  the  murder  of  his  nephew  Henry  at 
Yiterbo,  the  death  of  his  brother  Eichard.    He 
died  at  the  Abbey  of  St.  Edmund  at  ])ury,  on  Henry  HI. 
the  festival  of  the  recently  canonised  St.  Ed-  i.uriedNov. 
numd,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  (Nov.   16), 
and   was    buried    on    the   festival   of    St.   Edmund   the 
Anglo-Saxon  martyr  (Xov.  1:0),  in  the  Abbey  of  West- 
minster, the  Templars  acknowledging  their  former  con- 
nection by  supplying  the  funeral.1     The  body  was  laid, 
not  where   it  now  rests,  but   in   the  coffin,  before  the 
high  altar,  vacated  by  the  removal  of  the  Confessor's 
bones,  and  still,  as  Henry  might  suppose,  sanctified  by 
their  odour.2     As  the  corpse  sank  into  the  grave,  the 
Earl  of  Gloucester,  in  obedience  to  the  King's,  dying 
commands,  put  his  bare  hand  upon  it,  and  swore  fealty 
to  the  heir-apparent,  absent  in  Palestine.     Edward,  in 
his  homeward  journey,  was  not  unmindful  of  his  father's 
tomb.     He  had  heard  of  the  death  of  his  son  Henry,3 
but  his  grief  for  him  was  swallowed  up  in  his  grief  for 
Henry  his  father.     '  Uod  may  give  me  more  sons,  but 
not  another  father.'  4     From  the  East,  or  from  France, 
he  brought  the  precious  marbles,  the  slabs  of  nuii.iin- .it- 
porphyry,  with  which,  ten   years   afterwards,  r.'si. 
the  tomb  was  built  up,  as  we  now  see  it,  on  the  north 
side   of  the  Confessor's   Shrine;  and  an  Italian  artist, 
Torel,5  carved  the  ettigy  which  lies  upon   it.6  His  |>,,. 
Yet  ten  more  years  passed,  and  into  the  fin- 
ished tomb  was  removed  the  body  of  the  King.     Henry 

1   Dart,  ii.  .'!4.  -  AVykes,  ]>.  <>S. 

:i  He  was  buried  in  tlic  Abbey  by  tbe  Aivlibisbop  of  Canterbury. 
(See  Chapter  V.) 

4   Widnmre,  p.  7f>.  5   (Unniiixia.  p.  150;   Arch.  xxix.  1'Jl. 

0   See  "Westmacott  in  Old  Lunilun,  p.  1ST. 

VOL.  I. —  11 


162  THE   ROYAL   TOMBS. 

had  in  his  earlier  years,  when  at  his  ancestral  burial-- 
place in  Anjou,  promised  that  his  heart  should  be  de- 
posited with  the  ashes  of  his  kindred  in  the  Abbey  of 
Fontevrault.  The  Abbess,1  one  of  the  grandest  of  her 
rank  in  France,  usually  of  the  blood-royal,  with  the 
singular  privilege  of  ruling  both  a  monastery  of  men 
Delivery  of  and  a  nunnery  of  women,  was  in  England  at 

his  Heart  to 

the  Abbess    the  time  ot  the  removal  of  Henry  s  body  to 

of  Fonte-  .       J 

vrauit.  1291.  the  new  tomb,  and  claimed  the  promise.  It 
was  on  this  occasion  that,  under  warrant  from  the 
King,  in  the  presence  of  his  brother  Edmund,  and  the 
two  prelates  specially  connected  with  the  Westminster 
coronations,  the  Bishops  of  Durham  and  of  Bath  and 
Wells,  the  heart  was  delivered  in  the  Abbey  into  her 
hands  —  the  last  relic  of  the  lingering  Plantagenet 
affection  for  their  foreign  home.2 

Such  was  the  beginning  of  the  line  of  royal  sepultures 
in  the  Abbey ;  and  so  completely  was  the  whole  work 
identified  with  Henry  III.,  that  when,  in  the  reigns  of 
Eichard  II.  and  Henry  V.,  the  Nave  was  completed, 
the  earlier  style  —  contrary  to  the  almost  universal 
custom  of  the  mediaeval  builders  —  was  continued,  as 
if  by  a  process  of  antiquarian  restoration  ;  and  this 
tribute  to  Henry's  memory  is  visible  even  in  the  armo- 
rial bearings  of  the  benefactors  of  the  Abbey.  To  mark 
the  date,  and  to  connect  it  with-  the  European  history 
of  the  time,  the  Eagle  of  Frederick  II.,  the  heretical 
Emperor  of  Germany,  the  Lilies  of  Louis  IX.,  the 
sainted  King  of  France,  the  Lion  of  Alexander  III.,  the 
doomed  King  of  Scotland;5  had  been  fixed  on  the  walls 

1  See  the  description  of  the  convent  in  the  Memoirs  of  Mdl/c.  de 
Montpensier,  i  49-52.     The  Abbess  in  her  time  was  called  'Madame  de 
Fontevrault,'  and  was  a  natural  daughter  (if  Louis  XIII. 

2  Dugdale's  Monasticon,  i.  312.          y  This  disappeared  in  1829, 


TOMBS   OF   THE   FAMILY   OF    HENRY   III.         163 

of  the  Choir,  where  they  may  still  in  part  be  seen. 
There,  too,  remains  the  only  contemporary  memorial 
which  England  possesses  of  Simon  de  Montfort,  founder 
of  the  House  of  Commons.1  It  was  these  and  the  like 
shields  of  nobles,  coeval  with  the  building  of  Henry 
III.,2  not  those  of  the  later  ages,  that  were  still  con- 
tinued on  the  walls  of  the  Nave  when  it  was  completed 
in  the  following  centuries. 

It  would  seem  that,  with  the  same  domestic  turn 
which  appears  in  Louis  Philippe's  arrangement  of  the 
Orleans  cemetery  at  Dreux,  Henry  at  Westminster  had 
provided  for  the  burial  of  his  whole  family  in  all  his 
branches  round  him.:j     "Twelve  years  before  10.7 
his  own  interment  he  had  already  laid,  in  a  cltSne 
small  richly -carved  tomb  by  the  entrance  of  ehlidreifof 
St.  Edmund's  Chapel,  his  dumb  and  very  beau- 
tiful little  daughter,  of  five  years  old,  Catherine.4    Mass 
was  said  daily  for  her  in  the  Hermitage  of  Charing. 
Beside  her  were  interred  his  two  other  children  who 
died  young,  and  whose   figures  were  painted  Theiiem-t 
above  her  tomb  —  Richard  and   John.5     The  iit-my,  i->n. 

1  Gules  —  a  lion  rampant  —  double-tailed  —  ardent,  in  X.  isle. 

2  Sir  Gilbert  Scott  has  pointed  this  out  to  me,  particularly  in  the 
case  of  Valence  Earl  of  Pembroke,  and  Ferrers  Earl  of  Derby.     Even 
the  details  of  Henry  III. 's  architecture,  though  modified  in  the  Nave, 
were  continued  in  the  Cloisters.     The  shield  of  the  Confessor  is  the 
earliest  of  the  kind,  the  martlets  not  having  yet  lost  their  legs.     See 
the  account  of  a  MS.  description  of  these  shields  in  1598,  in  the  /Vo- 
ceedinijs  of  lite  Society  of  Antiquaries,  Jan.  25,  180G. 

3  d'li-Hniin/s,  p.  140;   Arcl,.  xxix.  188;   Aiiimfx,  A.  n.  128.'5. 

4  Matt.  Paris,  p.  !»4'.».     In  the  Liberate  Hull,  41   Hen.  III.,  is  a  pay- 
ment for  her  funeral  on  May  1<5.     It  was  made  by  a  mason   in    Dorset- 
shire. Master  Simeon  de  Well,  probably  Weal,  near  Corfe  Castle,  who 
also  furnished  the  Purbeck  marble  for  the  tomb  of  John,  eldest   son  of 
Edward   I.     (Pipe   Rolls,  Dorset,  41,  II.  iii.)      I   owe  this  to  Mr.  liond 
of  Tyneham. 

5  The  arch  is  said  to  have  been  constructed  by  Edward  I.,  as  a 


164  THE    ROYAL   TOMBS. 

heart  of  Henry,  son  of  his  brother  Richard,  who  was 
killed  in  the  cathedral  at  Viterbo  by  the  sons  of  Simon 
de  Montfort,  was  brought  home  and  placed  in  a  gold 
cup,  by  the  Shrine  of  the  Confessor.  The  widespread 
horror  of  the  murder  had  procured,  through  this  inci- 
dent, the  one  single  notice  of  the  Abbey  in  the  '  Divina 
Corninedia '  of  Dante  : 

Lo  cor  che'n  sul  Tamigi  ancor  si  cola.1 

The  King's  half-brother,  William  de  Valence,  lies  close 
wiiHam  de  by,  within  the  Chapel  of  St.  Edmund,  dedi- 
i2(.'o.  cated  to  the  second  great  Anglo-Saxon  saint. 

This  chapel  seems  to  have  been  regarded  as  of  the  next 
degree  of  sanctity  to  the  Royal  Chapel  of  St.  Edward. 
William  was  the  son  of  Isabel,  widow  of  John,  by  her 
second  marriage  with  the  Earl  of  Marche  and  Poictiers, 
and  the  favour  shown  to  him  and  his  wild  Poitevin 
kinsman  by  his  brother  was  one  cause  of  the  King's 
embroilment  with  the  English  Barons.2  His  whole 
tomb  is  French ;  its  enamels  from  Limoges ;  his  birth- 
place Valence  on  the  Rhone,  represented  on  his  coat- 
of-arins.  His  son3  Ayrner  —  so  called  from  the  father 
of  Isabel  Aymer,  Count  of  Angouleme — built  the  tomb; 
and  also  secured  for  himself  a  still  more  splendid  rest- 
ing-place on  the  north  side  of  the  sacrarium,  making 
one  range  of  sepulchral  monuments,4  with  bis  cousins 

memorial  to  his  four  young  children  —  John,  Henry,  Alfonso  [and 
Eleanor?].  (See  Crull,  p.  28.) 

1  Dante's  Inferno,  xii.  115;  Gleanings,  p.  138.  —  Benvenuto  of  Imola, 
commenting  on  this  line,  says :  '  In  quodam  monasterio  monachorum 
vocato  ibi  Guamister.'     (Robertson's  History  of  ike  Church,  iii.  463.) 

2  Gleanings,  pp.  155-157  ;  Crull,  p.  155.     The  tomb  has  been  much 
injured  since  1685.     (Gleanings,  p.  62  ) 

3  His  two  other  children,  John  and  Margaret,  occupy  the  richly- 
enamelled  spaces  at  the  foot   of   the    Slirine.     (Crull,  p.  156.)     The 
name  of  their  father  is  still  visible  upon  the  grave. 

4  See  Old  London,  p.  194. 


TOMBS   OF   THE    FAMILY   OF   HENRY   III.  165 

Edmund  and  Aveline.  Aveline,  the  greatest  heiress  in 
the  kingdom,  daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Albemarle,  had 
heen  married  to  Edmund,  in  the  Abbey,  in  Aveline 
12G9,  shortly  after  the  translation  of  the  relics  VlZ'^' 
of  the  Confessor.  She  died  two  years  after  j-faJL,,^ 
her  father-in-law  the  King ;  and  was  followed  Lancaster, 
to  the  same  illustrious  grave  by  her  husband, 
twenty-three  years  later.1  He  was  the  second  son  of 
Henry.  It  is  possible  that  his  epithet  C rum-hind-,  if 
not  derived  from  his  humped  back,  was  a  corruption  of 
Crossback  or  Crusader.  Whether  it  be  so  or  not,  he 
remains  the  chief  monument  of  the  Crusading  period.2 
He  and  his  brother  Edward  started  together  before  their 
father's  death,  and  the  ten  knights  painted  on  the  north 
side  of  his  tomb  have  been  supposed  to  represent  the 
gallant  English  band  who  engaged  in  that  last  struggle 
to  recover  the  Holy  Land.  If  in  this  respect  he  repre- 
sents the  close  of  the  first  period  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
in  two  other  respects  he  contains  the  germs  of  much  of 
the  future  history  of  England.  First  Earl  of  Lancaster, 
he  was  the  founder  of  that  splendid  house.  Henry  IV., 
with  that  curious  tenacity  of  hereditary  right  which 
distinguished  his  usurpation,  tried  to  maintain  that 
Edmund  was  really  the  eldest  son  of  his  father,  ex- 
cluded from  the  throne  only  by  his  deformity.3  From 
Provins  —  where  he  resided  on  his  return  from  the  Holy 
Land,  with  his  second  wife,  Blanche  of  Xavarre,  and 
which  he  converted  almost  into  an  English  town  -  he 
brought  back  those  famous  Red  roses,  wrongly  named 

1  FTer  tomb  originally  was  raised  upon  the  present  liascinent.  (See 
Dart,  ii.  7,  10.) 

-  These  tombs  arc  architecturally  connected  with  those  of  Arch- 
bishop IVckhani  at  Cantcrhury,  and  Bislmp  I  )e  I.mia  at  Kly 
(Gleaitinys,  p.  (rj.)  :i  Harding  (Turner,  ii.  i'7.'i) 


166  THE   ROYAL  TOMBS 

'  of  Provence,'  planted  there  by  the  Crusaders,  from 
Palestine,  which  may  be  seen  carved  on  his  tomb,  and 
which  became  in  after-days  the  badge  of  the  Lancastrian 
dynasty.  His  extravagance,  with  that  of  his  father, 
combined  to  produce  that  reaction  in  the  English  people 
which  led  to  the  foundation  of  the  House  of  Commons. 
And  the  length  of  time  which  elapsed  before  his  tomb 
was  completed,  arose  from  his  own  dying  anxiety  not 
to  be  buried  till  all  his  debts  were  paid.  He  died  in 
the  same  year  as  his  half-uncle  William,  but  the  tomb 
was  evidently  not  erected  till  late  in  the  reign  of 
Edward  II. 

These  are  but  the  eddies  of  the  royal  history.     The 
main   stream   flows   through   the    Confessor's    Chapel. 
Prince  Edward  and   Eleanor  have  returned  from  the 
Crusades.     Eleanor  is  the  first  to  depart.     The  remem- 
Eieanorof     krance  of  their  crusading  kinsman,  St.  Louis, 
Sed'Nov       never  leaves  them ;  and  when  Eleanor  died  at 
Hardby,  the  crosses  which  were  erected  at  all 
the  halting-places  of  his  remains,  from  Mont  Cenis  to 
St.  Denys,  seem   to  have  furnished  the  model  of  the 
twelve  memorial  crosses  which  marked  the  passage  of 
the  '  Queen  of  good  memory,'  from  Lincoln  to  Charing 
— '  Mulier   pia,   modesta,  misericors,  Anglicorum  om- 
nium amatrix.' 1    Her  entrails  were  left  at  Lincoln  ;  her 
heart  was  deposited  in  the  Blackfriars'  mon- 
astery in  London ;  but  her  body  \vas  placed 
in   the   Abbey,  at   the   foot   of  her  father-in-law,  just 
before  the  removal  of  his  own  corpse  into  his  new  tomb. 
A  hundred  wax-lights  were  for  ever  to  burn  around  her 
grave  on  St.  Andrew's  Eve,  the  anniversary  of  her  death; 
and  each  Abbot  of  Westminster  was  bound  by  oath  to 

1  See  Memorials  of  Queen  Eleanor ;  aiid  Arch,  xxix.  170-4,  181. 


QUEKX    KLKAXOIl  S    TOMIJ. 


OF  THE   PLANTAGENETS.  167 

keep  up  this  service,  before  he  entered  on  his  office,  and 
the  charter  requiring  it  was  read  aloud  in  the  Chapter 
House.  The  Bishop  of  Lincoln  buried  her:  a  mortal 
feud  between  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  and  the 
Abbot  of  Westminster  kept  them  from  meeting  at  the 
funeral.1 

Eighteen  years  passed  away.  Edward  had  married 
a  second  time.  He  had  erected  splendid  tombs,  of 
which  we  have  previously  spoken,  to  his  father,  his 
wife,  and  his  uncle.  He  had  continued  the  Abbey  for 
five  bays  westward  into  the  Nave.2  The  Chapel  of  the 
Confessor,  where  he  had  kept  his  vigil  before  his  knight- 
hood, he  had  filled  with  trophies  of  war,  most  alien  to 
the  pacific  reign  of  his  father  —  the  Stone  of  Fate  from 
Scotland,  and  a  fragment  of  the  Cross  from  Alfonso, 
some  remote  sanctuary  of  Wales.3  His  little  i^sl. 
son  Alfonso,  called  after  his  grandfather,  Alfonso  of 
Castile,  hung  up  with  his  own  hands  before  the  shrine 
the  golden  crown  of  Llewellyn,  the  last  Welsh  Prince, 
slain  amongst  the  broom  at  Builth  ;  and  was  himself, 
almost  immediately  afterwards,  buried  between  his 
brothers  and  sisters  in  the  Abbey,  whilst  his  heart  lies 
with  his  mother's  in  the  Blackfriars'  convent.4 

And  now  Edward  himself  is  brought  from  the  wild 
village  of  Burgh,  on  the  Solway  sands.     For 

v 

sixteen  weeks  IK;  lay  in  Waltham  Abbey  by 

the  grave  of    Harold;    and  then,  almost   four 

months  after  his  death,  was  buried  by  Anthony 

Beck,  Bishop  of  Durham,  between  his  broth-  nist""lK 

er's  and  his  father's  tomb.5     The   monument  was   not 

1  Memorials  of  Queen  Eleanor,  pp.  175,  179;   Ottl  London,  p.  187. 

2  (UeaniiHjs,  p.  32.  ;!  Sec  Chapters  II.  and  V. 
4  Matthew  of  Westminster,  A.  n.  1284;  (i/fn>i>>i</x.  p.  151. 

6  Rishangor,  (ii-xln  Kilmn-i/i  /'nmi,  A.  i>.  i:U)7.     (I'uiili,  ii.  178.) 


108  THE   ROYAL   TOMBS 

always  so  rude  as  it  now  appears.  There  are  still 
remains  of  gilding  on  its  black 1  Purbeck  sides.  A 
massive  canopy  of  wood  overshadowed  it,  which  re- 
mained till  it  disappeared  in  a  scene  of  uproar,  which 
might  have  startled  the  sleeping  King  below  into  the 
belief  that  the  Scots  had  invaded  the  sanctity  of  the 
Abbey,  when,  on  the  occasion  of  a  midnight  funeral, 
the  terrified  spectators  defended  themselves  with  its 
rafters  against  the  mob.2 

But,  even  in  its  earliest  days,  the  plain  tomb  of  the 
greatest  of  the  Plantagenets,  without  mosaic,  carving,  or 
effigy,  amongst  the  splendid  monuments  of  his  kindred, 
cries  for  explanation.  Two  reasons  are  given.  The  first 
connects  it  with  the  inscription,  which  runs  along  its 
inscription  side :  —  '  Edvarclus  Primus  Scotorum  malleus 
seiVa.'  hie  est,  1308.  Pactum  Serva,'3  Is  the  un- 
finished tomb  a  fulfilment  of  that  famous  '  pact,'  which 
the  dying  King  required  of  his  son,  that  his  flesh  should 

1  That  it  is  of  Purbeck  marble,  and  that  its  base,  as  well  as  that  of 
Henry  III.'s  tomb,  is  of  Caen  stone,  I  am  assured  by  Professor  Ramsay. 
This  disposes  of  a  tradition  that  the  stones  of  Edward  I.'s  tomb  were 
brought  from  Jerusalem. 

-  See  Chapter  IV. 

3  Lord  Hailes  (Scot/ami,  i.  27)  evidently  supposes  this  to  allude  to 
the  dying  compact.  But  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  inscription  is 
of  far  later  date;  and  the  motto  '  Pact  um  serra'  is,  in  all  probability,  a 
mere  moral  maxim,  '  Keep  your  promise.'  For —  1.  The  inscription  is 
of  the  same  character  as  that  which  runs  round  the  Shrine  of  the  Con- 
fessor, which  has  obliterated  the  larger  part  of  the  older  inscription ; 
2.  That  inscription  is  evidently  of  the  time  of  Abbot  Feckenham  (see 
Chapter  VI.);  3.  The  like  inscription  on  Ilenrv  V.'s  tomb  is  also  of  a 
later  date,  as  appears  from  the  allusion  to  Queen  Catherine's  coffin 
(see  p.  186);  4.  All  these  royal  inscriptions  are  exactly  similar  in  style, 
consisting  of  a  Latin  hexameter,  a  date  (in  the  case  of  Henry  III.  and 
Edward  I.  a  wrong  date),  and  a  moral  maxim.  Four  inscriptions  still 
remain,  in  whole  or  in  part  —  that  of  Edward  I.,  Henry  III.,  Henry  V., 
and  the  Confessor.  (See  also  Neale,  ii.  09-109.)  That  of  Edward  I. 
has  attracted  more  attention,  both  from  its  intrinsic  interest  and  from 
its  more  conspicuous  position. 


OF   THE   PLANTAGEXETS.  1G9 

be  boiled,  his  bones  carried  at  the  head  of  the  English 
army  till  Scotland  was  subdued,  and  his  heart  sent  to  the 
Holy  Land,1  which  he  had  vainly  tried  in  his  youth  to 
redeem  from  the  Saracens  ?  It  is  true  that  with  the 
death  of  the  King  the  charms  of  the  conquest  of  Scotland 
ceased.  But  it  may  possibly  have  been  '  to  keep  the  pactr 
that  the  tomb  was  left  in  this  rude  state,  which  would 
enable  his  successors  at  any  moment  to  take  out  the 
corpse  and  carry  off  the  heart.  It  may  also  have  been 
with  a  view  to  this  that  a  singular  provision  was  left 
and  enforced.  Once  every  two  years  the  tomb  was  to 
be  opened,  and  the  wax  of  the  King's  cerecloth  renewed. 
This  renewal  constantly  took  place  as  long  as  his 
dynasty  lasted,  perhaps  with  a  lingering  hope  that  the 
time  would  come  when  a  victorious  English  army  would 
once  more  sweep  through  Scotland  with  the  conqueror's 
skeleton,  or  another  crusade  embark  for  Palestine  with 
that  true  English  heart,  The  hour  never  came,  and 
when  the  dynasty  changed  with  the  fall  of  Richard  II., 
the  renewal  of  the  cerement  ceased.  From  that  time 
the  tomb  remained  unfinished,  but  undisturbed,  till, 
in  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  it  was  opened  in 
the  presence  of  the  Society  of  Antiquaries,2  o^im^nf 

the  tomb  in 

and  the  King   was  found  in  his  royal  robes,  1771. 
wrapped  in  a  large  waxed  linen  cloth.    Then  for  the  last 

1  Walsiiii^hain,  A.I).  1307.  —  Two  thousand  pounds  in  silver  were 
laid    up,  and    14(1    knights   named    for    the    expedition.      Ho\v    deeply 
this  expedition  was  impressed   on   popular  feeling  appears   from    the 
allusion    in    the    Elegy   in    Percy's   /.Y//«///rs    (ii.   <l),   with    the    Pope's 

lament  — 

'Jerusalem,  thou  last  y-lore  "lost], 
The  flower  of  all  chivalry, 
Now  King  K'lwanl  livetli  no  more. 
Alas,  that  he  shoulil  die!  ' 

2  Arrli.   iii.  .'570,  .'5<»S,  :{'.»!) ;   \eale.   ii.   \7'2;    D'Israeli's  <'nrio*i//<s  of 
1. il(  ratlin     iii.  SI.  —-The  corpse  \v;is  six   feel   two  inches  long. 


170  THE   ROYAL   TOMBS 

time  was  seen  that  figure,  lean  and  tall,  and  erect  as  a 
palm-tree,1  whether  running  or  riding.  But  the  long 
shanks,  which  gave  him  his  surname,  were  concealed  in 
the  cloth  of  gold ;  the  eyes,  with  the  cast  which  he  had 
inherited  from  his  father,  were  no  longer  visible  ;  nor 
the  hair,  which  had  been  yellow 2  or  silver-bright  in 
childhood,  black  in  youth,  and  snow-white  in  age,  on 
his  high  broad  forehead.  Pitch  was  poured  in  upon  the 
corpse,  and  as  Walpole  comically  laments  in  deploring 
the  final  disappearance  of  the  crown,  robes,  and  sceptre, 
'  They  boast  now  of  having  enclosed  him  so  effectually, 
that  his  ashes  cannot  be  violated  again. '  3 

There  is  yet  another  explanation,  to  which,  even 
under  any  circumstances,  we  must  in  part  resort,  and 
wasteful-  which  carries  us  on  to  the  next  reign.  '  As 
Kdwani  ii.  Mcdlcus  Scotorum ,  "  the  hammer  or  crusher  of 
the  Scots,"  is  written  on  the  tomb  of  King  Edward  I. 
in  Westminster,  so  Incus  Scotonun,  "  the  anvil  of  the 
Scots,"  might  as  properly  be  written  on  the  monument 
(if  he  had  any)  of  Edward  II.'  4  His  monument  is  at 
Gloucester,  as  William  llufus's  at  Winchester,  the  near- 
est church  to  the  scene  of  his  dreadful  death.  But  he  is 
not  without  his  memorial  in  the  Abbey.  That  unfiii- 
Histomhat  ished  condition  of  the  tomb  of  his  father  is 

Gloucester,         .  . 

r.',-27.  the  continued  witness  of  the  wastefulness  of 

the  unworthy  son,  who  spent  on  himself  the  money 
which  his  father  had  left  for  the  carrying  on  of  his  great 
designs,5  if  not  for  the  completion  of  his  monument.6 

1  Cl,ron.  lioff.     (Panli,  ii.  178.)  2  Rishauger,  p.  76. 

3  Wai  pole's  Letters,  iv.  197. 

4  Fuller's  C/utir/i  /list.  \.  n.  1.314. 
6  Walsingham,  A.D.  1.'507. 

6  In  186fi,  a  slight,  memorial  of  some  festival  in  Edward  II. "s  reign 
was  found  in  fragments  of  paper-hangings,  bearing  his  arms,  affixed 
to  the  pillars  near  the  altar. 


OF   THE  PLANTAGENETS.  171 

But  his  son,  John,  surnamed,  from  his  hirtli  in  that 
fine  old  palace,  of  Eltham,  who  died  at  Perth  at  the 
early  age  of  19,  was  expressly  ordered  to  be  removed 
from  the  spot  where  he  was  first  interred,  to  Tomb  of 
a  more  suitable  place  '  entre  les  royals,' 1  yet  '^"^ 
'  so  as  to  leave  room  for  the  King  and  his  sue-  1:m- 
cessors.'     The  injunction  was  either  disregarded,  or  was 
thought  to  be  adequately  fulfilled  by  his  interment  in 
the  quasi-royal  Chapel  of  St.  Edmund,  under  a  tomb 
which  lost  its  beautiful  canopy  2  in  the  general  crash  of 
the  Chapel  at  the  time  of  the  Duchess  of  Northumber- 
land's funeral  in  the  last  century. 

The  whole  period  of  the  two  Edwards  is  well  summed 
up  in  the  tomb  of  Aymer  de  Valence,  cousin  of  Edward 
I.,  planted,  as  we  have  seen,  in  the  conspicuous  Ayrm-r  .ie 
spot  between  Edmund  and  Aveline  of  Lancas-  Earior' 
ter,  —  the  tall  pale  man,  nicknamed  by  Gav-  is-ja. 
eston  '  Joseph  the  Jew,'  3  —  the  ruthless  destroyer  of 
Nigel   Bruce,  of   Piers    Gaveston,   and   of   Thomas   of 
Lancaster.     If  the  Scots  could  never  forgive  him  for  the 
death  of  Nigel,  neither  could  the  English  for  the  death 
of  the  almost  canonised  Earl  of  Lancaster.    '  No  Earl  of 
Pembroke,'  it  was  believed,  '  ever  saw  his  father  after- 
wards : '  and  Aymer's  mysterious  death  in  France  was 
regarded  as   a  judgment    for  '  consenting  to  the  death 
of   St.    Thomas.' 4      Pembroke    College    at    Cambridge 


1  Archives.     The  Prior  and  Convent  received  .£100  line  in  lieu  of 
the  horses  and  armour.     (Sandford,  155.) 

2  For  the  canopy,  see  Chapter  IV.;  Crull,  p.  46;  Nichols's  Anec- 
dotes (1760  and  1777),  iii.  745;  Malcolm's  Loiul.,  p.  25:5. 

3  Capgrave,  p.  252. 

4  Leland  ;  Xeale,  ii.  27.'5.  —  For  the  narrow  escape  of  Aymer's  tomb 
from  destruction  in  the  hist  century,  see  Chapter  IV.     Masses  were 
said  for  his  soul  in  the  Chapel  of  St.  John,  close  helnud  his  tomb. 
(Lysons's  Environs,  p.  .'$49.) 


172  THE   ROYAL  TOMBS 

Was  founded  by  his  widow,  to  commemorate  the  terrible 
bereavement  which,  according  to  tradition,  befell  her 
on  her  wedding-day. 

The  northern  side  of  the  Royal  Chapel  and  its  area 
—  a  position  peculiarly  honourable  in  connection  with 
the  mediaeval  position  of  the  priest  at  the  Eucharist  — 
was  now  filled.  The  southern  side  carried  on  and 
Queen  completed  the  direct  line  of  the  House  of 
iwj.  Anjou.  In  the  tomb  of  Philippa  a  more  his- 

torical spirit  is  beginning  to  supersede  the  ideal  repre- 
sentations of  early  times.  Her  face  is  the  earliest 
attempt  at  a  portrait ; 1  and  the  surrounding  figures 
are  not  merely  religious  emblems,  but  the  thirty 
princely  personages  with  whom,  by  birth,  the  Prin- 
cess of  Hainault  was  connected,2  as  the  tomb  is  proba- 
bly by  an  Hainault  artist.  But  '  she  built  to  herself,' 
says  Speed,  '  a  monument  of  more  glory  and  dura- 
bility by  founding  a  college,  called  of  her  the  Queen's, 
in  Oxford.'  3  On  her  deathbed  she  said  to  the  King,  '  I 
ask  that  you  will  not  choose  any  other  sepulchre  than 
mine,  and  that  you  lie  by  my  side  in  the  Abbey  of 
Westminster.'  4 

'  King  Edward's  fortunes  seemed  to  fall  into  eclipse 

DiMti.of        when  she  was  hidden  in  her  sepulchre.'     His 

.inm?"/,1""  futures  are  said  to  be  represented,  from  a  cast 

taken  after  death,  as  he  lay  on  his  deserted 

deathbed  : 5  — 

Mighty  victor,  mighty  lord, 

Low  on  his  funeral  couch  he  lies  !  ° 

1  Gleaninr/s,  p.  170.  2  Xeale,  ii.  98;  Gleaninr/s,  p.  64. 

3  Speed,  p.  724.  *  Froissart. 

5  Gleanings,  p.  173. 

c  In  an  account  of  these  two  tombs  by  a  Flemish  antiquary,  Ed- 
ward ITI.'s  tomb  is  said  to  be  empty,  the  King  being  buried  in  Queen 
Philippa's.  But  this  is  very  doubtful. 


OF  THE   PLANTAGEXETS.  173 

His  long  flowing  hair  and  beard  agree  with  the  contem- 
porary  accounts.     The   godlike   grace    which 
shone  in  his  countenance  1  is  perhaps  hardly 
perceptible,  but  it  yet  bears  a  curious  resemblance  to  an 
illustrious  living  poet  who  is  said  to  be  descended  from 
him. 

His  twelve  children  2  —  including  those  famous  '  seven 
sons,'  the  springheads  of  all  the  troubles  of  the  next 
hundred  years  —  were  graven  round  his  tomb,  His 
of  which  now  only  remain  the  Black  Prince,  cllll(h'en- 
Joan  de  la  Tour,  Lionel  Duke   of  Clarence,   Edmund 
Duke  of  York,  Mary  Duchess  of  Brittany,  and  William 
of  Hatfield.     Two  infant  children,  William  of  Windsor 
and  Blanche  de  la  Tour   (so  called  from  her  birth  in 
the  Tower),  have  their   small  tomb   in   St.  Edmund's 
Chapel.3 

The  monument  of  Edward  III.4  is  the  first  that  has 
entered  into  our  literature  :  — 

The  honourable  tomb 
That  stands  upon  your  royal  grandsire's  bones.5 

The  sword  6  and  shield  that  went  before  him  in  France 
formed  part  of  the  wonders  of  the  Abbey  as  Hjs  SW01.(1 
far  back  as   the    time    of   Queen   Elizabeth.7  ;""Uhidd- 
Dry  den  describes  — 

How  some  strong  churl  would  brandishing  advance 
The  monumental  sword  that  conquer'd  France. 

1  Pauli,  ii.  500;   (j/ranlnr/n,  p.  173 

2  Stow  (p.  24)  saw  them  all,  as  well  as  those  on  Queen  Philippa's 
tomb. 

3  Il.id.  p.  173;  Xeale,  ii.  301. 

4  Feekonhum's  inscription  on  the  tomb  is  the  same  as  that  under 
Edward  III.'s  statue  at  Trinity  College,  Cambridge. 

5  Shakspeare's  Richard  II. 

6  A  similar  sword  is  in  the  Chapter  House  at  Windsor. 

7  Rye's  England  (1502),  pp.  10,  92.     There  was  then  a  wolf  upon  it. 


174  THE   ROYAL   TOMBS 

Sir  Eoger  de  Coverley  '  laid  his  hand  on  Edward  III.'s 
sword,  and,  leaning  on  the  pommel  of  it,  gave  us  the 
whole  history  of  the  Black  Prince,  concluding  that,  in 
Sir  Eichard  Baker's  opinion,  Edward  III.  was  one  of 
the  greatest  princes  that  ever  sate  on  the  English 
u.-iirs  from  throne.'  Other  valued  trophies  of  the  French 
wrars  were  the  vestments  of  St.  Peter,  patron 
of  the  Abbey ;  and  the  head  of  St.  Benedict,  patron  of 
its  Order,  which  was  supposed  to  have  been  brought 
from  Monte  Casino  to  France.1 

The  circle  of  the  Confessor's  Chapel  was  now  all  but 
tilled.  The  only  space  left  was  occupied  by  a  small 
Tombs  of  tomb  (now  removed  to  the  Chapel  of  St.  John 
children.  the  Baptist)  of  the  grandchildren  of  Edward 
1.  — Hugh  and  Mary  de  Bohun,  children  of  his  daugh- 
ter Elizabeth  by  Humphrey  de  Bohun.  It  may  be 
from  the  absence  of  any  further  open  space  by  the 
Edward  side  of  the  Eoyal  Saint,  that  Edward  the 
Prince  Black  Prince  had  already  fixed  his  tomb  un- 

buried  at 

canterbury  der  the  shelter  of  the  great  ecclesiastical  mar- 
Kichard  ii.  tyr  of  Canterbury  Cathedral.2  But  his  son 
Hisaffeo-  Richard  was  not  so  disposed  to  leave  the 

tion  for 

the  Abbey.  Abbey.  His  affection  for  it  seems  to  have 
equalled  that  of  any  of  his  predecessors.  In  it  his 
coronation  had  been  celebrated  with  unusual  formality 
HIS  mar-  and  splendour.3  In  it  his  marriage-,  like  that 

riage,  Jan. 

of  Henry  III.,  had  been  solemnised.4  Here 
he  had  consulted  the  Hermit  on  his  way  to  confront 
the  rebels.5  The  great  northern  entrance,  known  as 
Solomon's  Porch,  was  rebuilt  in  his  time,  and  once 

1  Walsingham,  pp.  171,  178.  -  Memorials  of  Canterbury,  c.  3. 

3  SPC  Chapter  II. 

4  Walsingham,  ii.  48;  Sandford,  230;  Neale,  ii.  114. 
6  See  Chapter  V. 


OF   THE   PL ANTA  GENETS.  175 

contained  his  well-known  badge  of  the  White  Hart,1 
which  still  remains,  in  colossal  proportions, 

5  His  badge. 

painted  on  the  fragile  partition  which  shuts  off 
the  Muniment  Koom  from  the  southern  triforium  of 
the  Nave.  He  affected  a  peculiar  veneration  for  the 
Confessor.  He  bore  his  arms,  and  when  he  went  over 
to  Ireland,  which  '  was  very  pleasing  to  the  Irish,' 2  by 
a  special  grace  granted  them  to  his  favourite,  the  Earl 
of  Norfolk.3  '  By  St.  Edward  ! '  was  his  favourite  oath.4 
He  had  a  ring,  which  he  confided  to  St.  Edward's 
Shrine  when  he  was  not  out  of  England.5  His  por- 
trait 6  long  remained  in  the  Abbey,  probably 

J)  r  J     His  portrait. 

in  the  attitude  and  dress  in  which  he   ap- 
peared at  the  Feast  of  St.  Edward,  or  (as  has  been  con- 
jectured) when   he    sate  '  on   a  lofty  throne '  in    Old 
Palace  Yard,  and  gave  a  momentary  precedence  to  the 
Abbots  of  Westminster,  over  the  Abbots  of  St.  Albans.7 

1  The  badge  was  first  given  at  a  tournament  in  1396,  taken  from 
his  mother,  Joan  of  Kent.     According  to  the  legend,  it  was  derived 
from  the  white  stag  caught  at  Besastine,  near  Bagshot,  in  Windsor 
Forest,  with  the  collar  round  its  neck,  '  Xento  me  fanfjnt ;  dr-saris  stun.' 
From  the  popularity  of  Richard  II.,  it  was  adopted  by  his  followers 
with  singular  tenacity,  and  hence  the  difficulty  which  Henry  IV.  expe- 
rienced in  suppressing  it.     (Archceoloyia,  xx.  106,  152;  xxix.  .38,  40.) 
Hence  also  its  frequency  as  the  sign  of   inns.     Hence,  in    Epworth 
Church,  in  Lincolnshire,  it  has  been  recently  found  painted  with  the 
arms  of  the  Mowlirays,  his  faithful  adherents. 

2  Creton.     (Arch.  xx.  28.) 

3  It  was  one  of  the  articles  of  the  impeachment  of  the  Earl  of  Surrey 
by  Henry  VIII. 

4  Creton.     (Arch.  xx.  43.)  5  Inventory  of  Relics. 

*>  It  hung  above  the  pew  used  by  the  Lord  Chancellor,  on  the  south 
side  of  the  Choir,  till,  injured  by  the  wigs  of  successive  occupants,  it 
was  removed,  in  1775,  to  the  .Jerusalem  Chamber.  (See  Chapter  VI  ) 
For  the  whole  history  of  the  portrait,  and  its  successful  restoration  by 
Mr.  Richmond,  with  the  aid  of  Mr.  Merrit,  see  the  full  account,  by 
Mr.  George  Scharf,  in  the  Fine  Arts  Qiiarti-r/i/  Rrririr,  February  18(57. 

'  Riley's  Preface  to  Walsingliam's  Abliulx  <>/'  tit.  Alltann,  vol.  iii. 
p.  Ixxv. ;  Weever,  p.  473. 


176  THE   ROYAL   TOMBS 

It  is  the  "oldest  contemporary  representation  of  any 
English  sovereign,  an  unquestionable  likeness  of  the 
fatal  and  (as  believed  at  the  time)  unparalleled  beauty 
which  turned  Richard's  feeble  brain.  The  original  pic- 
ture had  almost  disappeared  under  successive  attempts 
at  restoration.  It  was  reserved  for  a  distinguished 
artist  of  our  own  day  to  recover  the  pristine  form  and 
features  ;  the  brow  and  eyes  still  to  be  traced  in  the 
descendants  of  his  line ; l  the  curling  masses  of  auburn 
hair,  the  large  heavy  eyes,  the  long  thin  nose,  the  short 
tufted  hair  under  his  smooth  chin,2  the  soft  and  melan- 
choly expression,  which  suits  at  once  the  Richard  of 
history  and  of  Shakspeare.3 

Was  this  face  the  face 
That  every  day  under  his  household  roof 
Did  keep  ten  thousand  men  ?     Was  this  the  face 
That,  like  the  sun,  did  make  beholders  wink? 
Was  this  the  face  that  faced  so  many  follies, 
And  was  at  last  out-faced  by  Bolingbroke?4 

Richard  is  thus  a  peculiarly  Westminster  King ;  and 
it  is  clear  from  all  these  indications  that  he  must  have 
desired  for  himself  and  all  for  whom  he  cared,5  a  burial 
as  near  as  possible  to  the  Iloyal  Saint  of  Westminster. 
The  grandchildren  of  Kdward  I.  were  removed  from 
their  place  in  the  Confessor's  Chapel  to  the  Chapel  of 
Funeral  of  St.  John  the  Baptist,  and  on  the  vacant  site 

Queen  Amic, 

1304.  thus  secured  was  raised  the  tomb  for  his  wife, 

Anne   of   Bohemia,  the  patroness    of   the   Wyclifh'tes, 

1  The  Prince  of  Wales  and  the  Princess  Alice  may  be  specially 
mentioned. 

2  Evesham,  pp.  162,  169.  —  In  a  rage  his  colour  fled,  and  he  became 
deadly  pale.     (Arc/i.  xx.  43  ;  Shakspoare's  Richard  II.,  act.  ii.  sc.  1.) 

3  Compare  also  (i ray's  lines,  Chapter  II.     For  the  chair  in  which 
he  sits,  see  Mr.  Scharf,  Fine  Arts  Qiuirfrr/y  Rfvi<u\  p.  .'56. 

4  Richard  II.,  act  iv.  sc.  1.         5  Gleanings,]).  174.     See  Chapter  IV. 


OF   THE   PLANTAGENETS.  177 

the  link  between  Wycliffe  and  Huss.  The  King's  ex- 
travagant grief  for  her  loss,  which  caused  him  to  raze 
to  the  ground  the  Palace  at  Sheen,  in  which  she  died, 
broke  out  also  at  her  funeral.1  It  was  celebrated  at 
an  enormous  cost.  Hundreds  of  wax  candles  were 
brought  from  Flanders.  On  reaching  the  Abbey  from 
St.  Paul's  he  was  roused  to  a  frenzy  of  rage,  by  finding 
that  the  Earl  of  Arundel  not  only  had  come  too  late  for 
the  procession,  but  asked  to  go  away  before  the  cere- 
mony was  over.  He  seized  a  cane  from  the  hand  of 
one  of  the  attendants,  and  struck  the  Earl  such  a  blow 
on  the  head,  as  to  bring  him  to  the  ground  at  his  feet. 
The  sacred  pavement  was  stained  with  blood,  and  the 
service  was  so  long  delayed,  by  the  altercation  and 
reconciliation,  that  night  came  on  before  it  was  com- 
pleted.2 The  King's  affection  for  his  wife  was  yet 
further  to  be  shown  by  the  arrangement  of  his  own 
effigy  by  the  side  of  hers,  grasping  her  hand  in  his. 
The  tomb  was  completed  during  his  reign,3  Toillbof 
and  decorated  with  the  ostrich-feathers  and  onuchard 
lions  of  Bohemia,  the  eagles  of  the  Empire,  1I->  130d' 
the  leopards  of  England,  the  broomcods  of  the  Planta- 
genets,  and  the  sun  rising  through  the  black  clouds  of 
Crdcy.4  The  rich  gilding  and  ornaments  can  still  be 
discerned  through  their  thick  coating  of  indurated 
dust.5  The  inscription  round  the  tomb  contains  the 
first  indication  of  the  conflict  with  the  rising  Ke- 
formers  —  in  the  pride  with  which  Eichard  records 
his  beauty,  his  wisdom,  and  his  orthodoxy : 

1  Wcevcr,  p.  477.  2  Trokclowe,  pp.  160,  424. 

3  Neale,  ii.  107-112. 

4  For  a  full  description  of  the  armorial  bearings,  see  Arch.  xxix. 
43,  47,  51.     Some  of  them  appear  also  on  Langliiim's  tomb  (ibid.  ">.'{). 
—  See  Chapter  V.;  also  Memorials  of  Canterbury ,  pp.  153,  154,  174  ISi. 

5  Arfh.  xxix.  57. 
VOL.  i.  — 12 


178  THE   ROYAL   TOMBS 

Corpore  prooerus,1  animo  prudens  ut  Homerus, 
Obruit  haeretieos,  et  eorum  stravit  amicos.'2 

But  whether  the  King  himself  really  reposes  in  the 
sepulchre  which  he  had  so  carefully  constructed  is 
His  Bunai  open  to  grave  doubt.  A  corpse  was  brought 
I:«M.  °  from  1'omfret  to  London  by  Henry  IV.,  with 

Removed  . 

t...  west-  the  race  exposed,  and  thence  conveyed  to  the 
HIS-  Friars  at  Langley ; 3  and  long  afterwards, 

partly  as  an  expiation  for  Henry's  sins,  partly  to  show 
that  Richard  was  really  dead,  it  was  carried  back  by 
Henry  V.  from  Langley,  and  was  buried  in  state  in  this 
tomb.4  The  features  were  recognised  by  many,  and 
were  believed  to  resemble  the  unfortunate  King;  but 
there  were  still  some  who  maintained  that  it  was  the 
body  of  his  chaplain,  Maudlin,  whose  likeness  to  the 
King  was  well  known.5  Twice  the  interior  of  the  tomb 
has  been  seen :  once  in  the  last  century  by  an  acci- 
dental opening  in  the  basement,  and  again  more  fully 
in  1871,  on  occasion  of  the  reparation  of  the  monument 
by  the  Board  of  Works.  The  skulls  of  the  King  and 
Queen  were  visible ;  no  mark  of  violence  was  to  be 
seen  on  either.  The  skeletons  were  nearly  perfect ; 
even  some  of  the  teeth  were  preserved.  The  two 
copper-gilt  crowns  which  were  described  on  the  first 
occasion  had  disappeared  ;  but  the  staff,  the  sceptre, 
part  of  the  ball,  the  two  pairs  of  royal  gloves,  the 
fragments  of  peaked  shoes  as  in  the  portrait,  still  re- 
mained.0 In  this  tomb,  thus  closing  the  precinct  of 

1  This  contradicts  the  Evcsham  chronicler,  who  says  he  was  short 
(p.  1C'.)). 

2  See  the  whole  inscription  in  Xeale,  ii.  110. 

3  See  Pauli,  iii.  60.  4  Turner,  ii.  380. 

6  Creton  (Arch.  xx.  220,  409).  But  Maudlin  had  been  beheaded  a 
month  before.  (Pauli,  iii.  11.) 

6  The  bodies  were  iu  a  small  vault  beneath  the  monument.     The 


OF   THE   HOUSE   OF   LANCASTER.  179 

the  Chapel,  the  direct  line  of  the  descendants  of  its 
founder  Henry  III.  was  brought  to  an  end;  and  with 
it  closes  a  complete  period  of  English  history.1 

The  Lancastrian  House,  which  begins  the  new  transi- 
tional epoch,  reaching  across  the  fifteenth  century,  had 
no  place  in  this  immediate  circle.    Henry  IV.,  THE 
although  he  died  almost  within  the  walls  of  I,A°NCAS°EK. 
the  Abbey,  sought  his   last  resting-place  in 
Canterbury  Cathedral  ;  and  it  may  be,  that  had  his  son 
succeeded  only  to  the  affection  of  the  great  ecclesiasti- 
cal party,  which  the  crafty  and  superstitious  usurper 
had  conciliated,  Westminster  would  have  been 

Henry  V. 

deserted  for  Canterbury.2  But  Henry  A'. 
cherished  a  peculiar  veneration  for  the  Abbey,  which 
had  been  the  scene  of  that  great  transformation,3  from 
a  wild  licentious  youth  to  a  steady  determined  man,  to 
an  austere  champion  of  orthodoxy,  to  the  greatest 
soldier  of  the  age,  '  Hostium  victor  et  sui.'  Not  only 


bones  and  the   relics  were  carefully  replaced.     The   investigation   is 
described  at  length  in  the  ArcJiceologia  of  1879. 

1  Thomas  of  Woodstock,  youngest  son  of  Edward  III.,  murdered  at 
the  instigation  of  Hiclmrd  II.,  was  interred  on  the  south  side  of  the 
Confessor's  Chapel,  beneath  the  pavement,  under  a  splendid 

brass  (see  Sandford,  p.  230),  of  which  nothing  but  the  in-   w^"^^ 
dentations  can  now  lie  traced.     His  widow  lies  in  the  Chapel  an'i  llis  wife, 
of  St.  Edmund,  under  a  brass  representing  her  in  her  con-  Duchtssof 
ventual  dress  as  a  nun  of  Barking.     Philippa,  widow  <>f  <;.J"l"'t';s^r> 
Edward    Duke  of    York,  afterwards  wife    of    Sir    Walter 
Fit/.walter,  was  the  first  to  occupy  the  Chapel  of  St.  Nicholas,  built 
probably  in  the  time  of  Edward  I.,  to  receive  the  relics  of  |j|,j|j.,pa 
that  saint,  and  next  in  dignity  to  those  of  St.  Edward  and   l>m-lics.«  of 
St.  Edmund.     Her  tomb   (now  removed  to  the  side)   was  ^orl 
then  in  the  middle  of  the  Chapel.     (Neale,  ii.  170.) 

2  After  Edward  the  Confessor's  tomb,  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  was 
shown  'Henry  the  Fourth's;  upon  which  he  shook  his  head,  and  told 
us  there  was  fine  reading  from  the  casualties  of  that  reign.'     (.^/n  da- 
tor,  No.  329.)     This  was  doubtless  a  confusion  either  in  the  good  knight, 
or  liis  guide,  with  lltnry  Ill.'s  tomb.  3  See  Chapter  V. 


180  THE   ROYAL   TOMBS 

did  he  bring  back  the  dead  Richard  —  not  only  did 
he  give  lands  and  fat  bucks  to  the  Convent,  but  he 
added  to  the  Church  itself  some  of  its  most  essential 
features.  The  Nave  —  which  had  remained  stationary 
since  the  death  of  Edward  I.,  except  so  far  as  it  had 
been  carried  on  by  the  private  munificence  of  Abbot 
Langham  l  —  was,  by  the  orders  of  Henry  V.,  prolonged 
nearly  to  its  present  extremity  by  the  great  architect 
July  -,  1418.  of  that  age,  remembered  now  for  far  other 
HIS.  ~J  reasons  —  Whittington.  Lord  Mayor  of  Lon- 
don.2 It  was  continued,  as  has  been  already  remarked, 
in  the  same  style  as  that  which  had  prevailed  when  it 
was  first  begun,  two  centuries  before.  The  first  grand 
NOV  "3.  ceremonial  which  it  witnessed  was  worthy  of 
itself  —  the  procession  which  assisted  at  the 
Te  Deum  for  the  victory  of  Agincourt.3 

It  was  just  before  the  expedition  which  terminated 
in  that  victory,  that  the  King  declared  in  his  will 
his  intention  to  be  buried  in  the  Abbey,  with  direc- 
tions so  precise  as  to  show  that  he  must  carefully 
have  studied  the  difficulties  and  the  capabilities  of  the 
locality.4 

The  fulfilment  of  his  intention  derives  additional 
force  from  the  circumstances  of  his  death.  Like  his 
father,  he  had  conceived  the  fixed  purpose  of  another 
crusade.  He  had  borrowed  from  the  Countess  of  West- 
moreland the '  Chronicle  of  Jerusalem  '  and  the  '  Voyage 
of  Godfrey  de  Bouillon ; '  he  had  sent  out  a  Palestine 
Exploration  party  under  Chevalier  Lannoy.5  Just  at 
this  juncture  his  mortal  illness  overtook  him  at  Vin- 

1  See  Chapter  V. 

2  Redman,  pp.  70-72;   Gleanings,  p.  213;  Rymer,  Fred.  ix.  78. 
8  Memorials  of  London,  621.  4  Rymer,  Fad.  ix.  289. 
6  Arch.  xxi.  312;  Rymer,  x.  307;  Pauli,  iii.  178. 


OF  THE  HOUSE  OF  LANCASTER.       181 

cennes.1  When  the  Fifty-first  Psalm  was  chanted  to 
him,  he  paused  at  the  words,  '  Build  Thou  the  walls  of 
Jerusalem,'  and  fervently  repeated  them.  '  As  surely 
as  I  expect  to  die,'  he  said,  '  I  intended,  after  I  had 
established  peace  in  France,  to  go  and  conquer  Jeru- 
salem, if  it  had  been  the  good  pleasure  of  my  Creator 
to  have  let  me  live  my  due  time.'  A  few  minutes  after, 
as  if  speaking  to  the  evil  spirit  of  his  youth,  he  cried 
out,  '  Thou  liest  —  thou  liest !  my  part  is  with  my 
Lord  Jesus  Christ ; '  and  then,  with  the  words  strongly 
uttered,  '  In  mantis  tuas,  Dominc,  ipsum  tcrminum  rede- 
inisti  !'  —  he  expired.2 

So  much  had  passed  since  the  time  when  he  wrote 
his  will,  in  the  third  year  of  his  reign,  that  it  seemed 
open  for  France  and  England  to  contest  the  glory  of 
retaining  him.  Paris  and  Rouen  both  offered,  it  is  said, 
immense  sums  of  money  for  that  purpose.3  But  his 
known  attachment  to  Westminster  prevailed, 

'     Funernl  nl 

and  the  most  sumptuous  arrangements  were  |N-™^i;:,. 
made  for  the  funeral.  The  long  procession  u~- 
from  Paris  to  Calais,  and  from  Dover  to  London,  was 
headed  by  the  King  of  Scots,  James  I ,  as  chief  mourner, 
followed  by  Henry's  widow,  Catherine  of  Yalois.  At 
each  stage  between  Dover  and  London,  at  Canterbury, 
Ospringe,  Rochester,  and  Dartford,  funeral  services 
were  celebrated.  On  the  procession  reaching  London, 
it  was  met  by  all  the  clergy.4  The  obsequies  were  per- 
formed in  the  presence  of  Parliament,  first  at  St.  Paul's 
and  then  at  the  Abbey.  Xo  English  king's  funeral 
had  ever  been  so  grand.  It  is  this  scene  alone  which 

1  He  was  attacked  l»y  a  violent  dysenterv.  from  the  excessively  hot 
summer,  —  the  '  mal  de  S.  Fiacre,'  —  August  .'il,  at   midnight.     (1'auli, 
iii.  173.)  «  Walsinu'liam,  p.  407. 

2  Pauli,  iii.  178.  4   Ibid.  p.  408. 


182  THE   ROYAL  TOMBS 

brings    the    interior   of    the    Abbey   on    the    stage   of 
Shakspeare  l  — 

Hung  be  the  heavens  with  black,  yield  day  to  night !   .   .  - 
King  Henry  the  Fifth,  too  famous  to  live  long! 
England  ne'er  lost  a  king  of  so  much  worth. 

On  the  splendid  car,  accompanied  by  torches  and  white- 
robed  priests  innumerable,  lay  the  effigy,  now  for  the  first 
time  seen  in  the  royal  funerals.2  Behind  were  led  up 
the  Nave,  to  the  altar  steps,  his  three  chargers.  To 
give  a  worthy  place  to  the  mighty  dead  a  severe  strain 
was  put  on  the  capacity  of  the  Abbey.  Eoom  for  his 
grave  was  created  by  a  summary  process,  on  which  no 
previous  King  or  Abbot  had  ventured.  The  extreme 
eastern  end  of  the  Confessor's  Chapel,  hitherto  devoted 
to  the  sacred  relics,  was  cleared  out ;  and  in  their  place 
was  deposited  the  body  of  the  most  splendid  King  that 
England  had  down  to  that  time  produced  ;  —  second 
only  as  a  warrior  to  the  Black  Prince  —  second  only  as 
a  sovereign  to  Edward  1.  His  tomb,  acccrd- 

His  tomb. 

ingly,  was  regarded  almost  as  that  of  a  saint 
in  Paradise.3  The  passing  cloud  of  reforming  zeal, 
which  Chichele  had  feared,  had  been,  as  Chichele  hoped, 
diverted  by  the  French  wars.  From  the  time  of 
Henry's  conversion  he  affected  and  attained  an  austere 
piety  unusual  among  his  predecessors.  Instead  of  their 
wild  oaths,  he  had  only  two  words,  '  Impossible,'  or  '  It 
must  be  done.'  In  his  army  he  forbade  the  luxury  of 
feather  beds.  Had  he  conquered  the  whole  of  France, 
he  would  have  destroyed  all  its  vines,  with  a  view  of 
suppressing  drunkenness.4  He  was  the  most  deter- 

1  Shakspeare 's  Henry  VI.,  First  Part,  act  i.  sc.  1. 
-  Previously  the   Kings  themselves   had    been   exhibited  in   their 
royal  attire.     (Bloxham,  p.  92.)     See  Chapter  IV. 

3  Moustrelet,  pp.  325,  326.  *  Pauli,  iii.  175. 


CI1ANTKY    OF    11ENKY    V. 


OF  THE  HOUSE  OF  LANCASTER.       183 

mined  enemy  of  Wycliffe  and  of  all  heretics  that  Europe 
contained.1  He  had  himself  intended  that  the  relics 
should  be  still  retained  in  the  same  locality,  though 
transferred  to  the  chamber  above  his  tomb.2  The 
recesses  still  existing  in  that  chamber  seem  designed 
for  this  purpose.  But  the  staunch  support  which  the 
dead  King  had  given  to  the  religious  world  of  that  age, 
if  not  his  brilliant  achievements,  seemed  in  the  eyes  of 
the  clergy  to  justify  a  more  extensive  change.  The 
relics  were  altogether  removed,  and  placed  in  a  chest, 
between  the  tomb  of  Henry  III.  and  the  Shrine  of  the 
Confessor,  and  the  chamber  was  exclusively  devoted  to 
the  celebration  of  services  for  his  soul  on  the  most 
elaborate  scale.  He  alone  of  the  Kings,  hitherto  buried 
in  the  Abbey,  had  ordered  a  separate  Chantry  to  be 
erected,  where  masses  might  be  for  ever  offered  up.3 
It  was  to  be  raised  over  his  tomb.  It  was  to  have  an 
altar  in  honour  of  the  Annunciation.4  For  one  whole 
year  '  30  poor  persons  '  were  to  recite  there  the  Psalter 
of  the  Virgin,  closing  with  these  words  in  the  vulgar 
tongue  — '  Mother  of  God,  remember  thy  servant  Henry 
who  puts  his  whole  trust  in  thee.'  5  It  was  to  be  high 
enough  for  the  people  down  in  the  Abbey  to  see  the 
priests  officiating  there.  Accordingly  a  new  Chapel 
sprang  up,  growing  out  of  that  of  St.  Edward,  and 
almost  reaching  the  dignity  of  another  Lady  Chapel. 
It  towers  above  the  Plantagenet  graves  beneath,  as  his 
empire  towered  above  their  kingdom.  As  ruthlessly  as 


1   Rymer,  x.  291,  f>04  ;  Pauli,  iii.  177.  -  Rymer,  i.\.  28P. 

3  They  were  specified  in  his  will,  and  amounted  to  20,000.     (Ryiner, 
ix.  290.)     John  Arden  was  clerk  of  the  works,  and  provided   the  Caen 
stone.     A   similar  Chantry  was  prepared  l>y  the  side  of  his  father's 
tomb  at  Canterbury. 

4  This  is  sculptured  over  the  door.  5  Hvmur,  ix.  289, 


184  THE   ROYAL  TOMBS 

any  improvement  of  modern  times,  it  defaced  and  in  part 
concealed  the  beautiful  monuments  of  Eleanor  and 
Philippa.  Its  structure  is  formed  out  of  the  first  letter 
of  his  name  —  H.  Its  statues  represent  not  only  the 
glories  of  Westminster,  in  the  persons  of  its  two 
founders,1  but  the  glories  of  the  two  kingdoms  which 
he  had  united — St.  George,  the  patron  of  England;  St. 
Denys,  the  patron  of  France.  The  sculptures  round 
the  Chapel  break  out  into  a  vein  altogether  new  in  the 
Abbey.  They  describe  the  personal  peculiarities  of  the 
man  and  his  history  —  the  scenes  of  his  coronation, 
with  all  the  grandees  of  his  Court  around  him,  and  his 
battles  in  France.  Amongst  the  heraldic  emblems  - 
the  swans  and  antelopes  derived  from  the  De  Italians  2 
—  is  the  flaming  beacon  or  cresset  light  which  he  took 
for  his  badge,  '  showing  thereby  that,  although  his 
virtues  and  good  parts  had  been  formerly  obscured,  and 
lay  as  a  dead  coal,  waiting  light  to  kindle  it,  by  reason 
of  tender  years  and  evil  company,  notwithstanding,  he 
being  now  come  to  his  perfecter  years  and  riper  under- 
standing had  shaken  off  his  evil  counsellors,  and  being 
now  on  his  high  imperial  throne,  that  his  virtues  should 
now  shine  as  the  light  of  a  cresset,  which  is  no  ordinary 
light.' 3  Aloft  were  hung  his  large  emblazoned  shield, 
his  saddle,  and  his  helmet,  after  the  example  of  the  like 
personal  accoutrements  of  the  Black  Prince  at 

His  saddle.       *- 

Canterbury.     The   shield  lias    lost  its  splen- 
dour, but  is  still  there.4    The  saddle  is  that  on  which  he 


1  Unless  the  figure  on  the  south  side  is  King  Arthur,  in  accordance 
with  the  seal  of  Henry  V.,  which  lias  the  Confessor  on  one  side  and 
Arthur  on  the  other. 

2  See  Roherts's  Houses  of  York  and  Lancaster,  ii.  254,  255. 

3  MS.  history,  quoted  in  Cough's  Sepulchral  Monument*,  ii.  69. 

4  Its  ornaments  still  appear  in  Sandford,  280. 


HELMET,    SHIELD,    AND    SADDLE    OF    IIEXRY   V.,    STILL   SUSPENDED 
OVEIl    7IIS   TOMB. 


OF  THE  HOUSE  OF  LANCASTER.       185 

Vaulted  with  such  ease  into  his  seat, 

As  if  an  angel  dropp'd  down  from  the  clouds, 

To  witch  the  world  with  noble  horsemanship.1 

The  helmet  —  which,  from  its  elevated  position,  has 
almost  become  a  part  of  the  architectural  out- 

His  helmet. 

line  of  the  Abbey,  and  on  which  many  a 
Westminster  boy  has  wonderingly  gazed  from  his  place 
in  the  Choir  —  is  in  all  probability  '  that  very  casque 
that  did  affright  the  air  at  Agincourt,'2  which  twice 
saved  his  life  on  that  eventful  day  — '  the  bruised  hel- 
met' which  he  refused  to  have  borne  in  state  before 
him  on  his  triumphal  entry  into  London,  '  for  that  he 
would  have  the  praise  chiefly  given  to  God.' 3 

Being  free  from  vainness  and  self-glorious  pride; 
Giving  full  trophy,  signal  and  ostent 
Quite  from  himself  to  God. 4 

Below  is  his  tomb,  which  still  bears  some  marks  of 
the   inscription   which   makes   him   the   Hector  of  his 
age.     Upon  it  lay  his  effigy  stretched  out,  cut 
from  the  solid  heart  of  an  English  oak,  plated 
with   silver-gilt,  with  a  head   of  solid   silver.     Tt  has 
suffered  more  than  any  other  monument  in  the  Abbey. 
Two   teeth   of  gold   were   plundered   in   Edward   IV. 's 
reign.5      The   whole   of  the   silver  was   carried   off  by 
some  robbers,   who    had  '  broken    in    the   night-season 
into  the  Church  of   Westminster,'  at  the   time  of   the 

1   Shakspeare's  Henry  IV.,  First  Part,  act  iv.  sc.  1. 

-  It  is  lined  with  leather,  and  must  have  heen  richly  gilded  out- 
side. I  fear  that  the  marks  upon  it  are  merely  the  holes  for  attaching 
the  crest,  &c.,  and  not  the  marks  of  the  ponderous  sword  of  the  Duke 
of  Alenron. 

:!  Account  of  the  helmet  liy  the  Ironmongers'  Company,  pp.  145, 146 

4  Shakspeare's  ffmi-i/   I'.,  act  v.,  Chorus. 

6  Inventory  of  Relics.     (Archives.) 


186  THE   ROYAL   TOMBS 

Dissolution.1  But,  even  in  its  mutilated  form,  the 
tomb  has  always  excited  the  keen  interest  of  English- 
men. The  robbery  'of  the  image  of  King  Henry  of 
Monmouth '  was  immediately  investigated  by  the  Privy 
Council.  Sir  Philip  Sydney  felt,  that  '  who  goes  but  to 
Westminster,  in  the  church  may  see  Harry  the  Fifth  ;'2 
and  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley's  anger  was  roused  at  the 
sight  of  '  the  figure  of  one  of  our  English  Kings  with- 
out a  head,  which  had  been  stolen  away  several  years 
since.'  '  Some  Whig,  1  '11  warrant  you.  You  ought  to 
lock  up  your  kings  better :  they  '11  carry  off  the  body 
too,  if  you  don't  take  care.' 3 

If  the  splendour  of  Henry  V.'s  tomb  marks  the  cul- 
mination of  the  Lancastrian  dynasty,  the  story  of  its 
fall  is  no  less  told  in  the  singular  traces  left  in  the 
Abbey  by  the  history  of  his  widow  and  his  son.  They, 
no  doubt,  raised  the  sumptuous  structure  over  the  dead 
King's  grave ;  and  they  also  clung,  though  with  far 
different  fates,  to  the  neighbourhood  of  the  sepulchre 
for  which  they  had  done  so  much. 

Queen  Catherine,  after  her  second  marriage  with 
Owen  Tudor,  sank  into  almost  total  oblivion.  On  her 
death  her  remains  were  placed  in  the  Abbey,4  but  only 
in  a  rude  tomb  in  the  Lady  Chapel  beyond,  in  a  '  badly 
apparelled5  state.'  There  the  coffin  lay  for  many  years. 
It  was,  on  the  destruction  of  that  Chapel  by  her  grand- 
son, placed  on  the  right  side  of  her  royal  husband,6 
wrapt  in  a  sheet  of  lead  taken  from  the  roof;  and  in 

1  Jan.  30,  1546.  ArfJiceol.-x.vin.Zl.  See  Keepe,  p.  155.  The  grates 
were  added  by  Henry  VI.  (Rymer,  x.  490.) 

-  Defence  of  the  Enrl  of  Leicester.     (P.  Cunningham.) 

8  Spectator,  No.  329.     It  would  seem  that  the  name  was  not  given. 

4  Strickland's  Queens,  iii.  183,  209.  5  Archives. 

6  As  specified  in  Feckeuham's  inscription,  added  in  the  next  cen 
tury. 


OF  THE  HOUSE  OF  LANCASTER.       187 

it  from  the  waist  upwards  was  exposed  to  the  visitors 
of  the  Abbey ;    and  so   it  '  continued   to  be  Tomb  of 
seen,    the    bones    being    firmly    united,   and  .Vrvaioi"6 
thinly  clothed   with   flesh,  like    scrapings   of  S^3' 
fine  leather.'1      Pepys,  on  his  birthday  visit  8>  14a<- 
to  the  Abbey,  'kissed  a  Queen.'2 

This  strange  neglect  was  probably  the  result  of  the 
disfavour  into  which  her  memory  had  fallen  from  her 
ill-assorted  marriage.  But  in  the  legends  of  the  Abbey 
it  was  •  by  her  own  appointment  (as  he  that  showeth 
the  tombs  will  tell  you  by  tradition),  in  regard  of  her 
disobedience  to  her  husband,  for  being  delivered  of  her 
son,  Henry  VI.,  at  Windsor,  the  place  which  he  for- 
bade.'3 This  desecration  was  brought  to  an  end  by  the 
interment  of  the  remains  in  a  vault  under  the  Villiers 
monument,  in  the  Chapel  of  St.  Nicholas,  at  the  time 
of  the  making  of  the  adjacent  Percy  vault  in  1778. 
A  hundred  years  later,  in  1878,  they  were  finally,  with 
the  sanction  of  Queen  Victoria,  deposited  in  the  chan- 
try of  Henry  V.  under  the  ancient  altar-slab  of  the 
chapel. 

Henry  VI.  was  not  willing,  any  more  than  his  father, 
to  abandon  his  hold  on  the  Confessor's  Shrine.  He, 
first  of  his  house,  revived  the  traditional  name  of 
Edward  in  the  person  of  his  first-born  son,  visits  of 

HtMiry  VI. 

who  was  born  on  St.  Edward's  Day.4     A  long  1451-1400. 
recollection  lived  in  the  memory  of  the  old  officers  and 
workmen  of  the  Abbey,  how  they  had,  in  the  disastrous 
period  between  the  Battle  of  St.  Albans  and  the  Battle 
of  Wakefield,  seen   the   King   visit   the   Abbey,  at  all 

1  Dart,  ii.  30. — Tlio  position  is  st-en  in  Samlford,  289. 

2  Pepys's  Dinru  (Fel>.  24,  IMS),  iv.  2;V}. 

8  Woover,  p.  475  ;   Fuller,  book  iv.  art.  xv.  §  48. 
4  Rklgwny,  p.  178. 


188  THE   ROYAL  TOMBS 

hours  of  the  day  and  night,  to  fix  the  place  of  his 
sepulture.1  On  one  occasion,  between  7  and  8  P.  M., 
he  came  from  the  Palace,  attended  by  his  confessor, 
Thomas  Manning,  afterwards  Dean  of  Windsor.  The 
abbot  (Kirkton)  received  him  by  torchlight  at  the  pos- 
tern, and  they  went  round  the  Chapel  of  the  Confessor 
together.  It  was  proposed  to  him,  with  the  reckless 
disregard  of  antiquity  which  marked  those  ages,  to 
move  the  tomb  of  Eleanor.  The  King,  with  a  better 
feeling,  said,  '  that  might  not  be  well  in  that  place,'  and 
that  'he  could  in  nowise  do  it;'  and,  on  being  still 
pressed,  fell  into  one  of  his  silent  fits,  and  gave  them 
no  answer.  He  then  was  led  into  the  Lady  Chapel, 
saw  his  mother's  neglected  coffin,  and  heard  the  pro- 
posal that  it  should  be  more  '  honourably  apparelled,' 
and  that  he  should  be  laid  between  it  and  the  altar  of 
that  Chapel.  He  was  again  mute.  On  another  occa- 
sion he  visited  the  Chapel  of  the  Confessor  with  Flete, 
the  Prior  and  historian  of  the  Abbey.  Henry  asked 
him,  with  a  strange  ignorance,  the  names  of  the  Kings 
amongst  whose  tombs  he  stood,  till  he  came  to  his 
father's  grave,  where  he  made  his  prayer.  He  then 
went  up  into  the  Chantry,  and  remained  for  more  than 
an  hour  surveying  the  whole  Chapel.  It  was  suggested 
to  him  that  the  tomb  of  Henry  V.  should  be  pushed  a 
little  on  one  side,  and  his  own  placed  beside  it.  With 
more  regal  spirit  than  was  usual  in  him,  he  replied, 
'  Nay,  let  him  alone  ;  he  lieth  like  a  noble  prince.  I 
would  not  trouble  him.'  Finally,  the  Abbot  proposed 
that  the  great  Pieliquary  should  be  moved  from  the 
position  which  it  now  occupied  close  beside  the  Shrine, 
so  as  to  leave  a  vacant  space  for  a  new  tomb.  The  de- 
vout King  anxiously  asked  whether  there  was  any  spot 

1  Archives. 


OF    THE   HOUSE   OF   LANCASTER.  189 

where  the  Relics,  thus  a  second  time  moved,  could  be 
deposited,  and  was  told  that  they  might  stand  'at  the 
back  side  of  the  altar.'  He  then  '  marked  with  his 
foot  seven  feet,'  and  turned  to  the  nobles  who  were 
with  him.  '  Lend  me  your  staff,'  he  said  to  the  Lord 
Cromwell ;  '  is  it  not  fitting  I  should  have  a  place 
here,  where  my  father  and  my  ancestors  lie,  near  St. 
Edward?'  And  then,  pointing  with  a  white  staff  to 
the  spot  indicated,  said,  '  Here  methinketh  is  a  conven- 
ient place ; '  and  again,  still  more  emphatically,  and 
with  the  peculiar  asseveration  which,  in  his  pious  and 
simple  lips,  took  the  place  of  the  savage  oaths  of  the 
Plantagenets,  '  Forsooth,  forsooth,  here  will  we  lie ! 
Here  is  a  good  place  for  us.'  The  master-mason  of 
the  Abbey,  Thirsk  by  name,  took  an  iron  instrument, 
and  traced  the  circuit  of  the  grave  on  the  pavement. 
Within  three  days  the  Relies  were  removed,  Pt,.itl|  nf 
and  the  tomb  was  ordered.  The  'marbler'  j}','"1'.}'.^1" 
(as  we  should  now  say,  the  statuary)  and  the  Ul1 
coppersmith  received  forty  groats  for  their  instalment, 
and  gave  one  groat  to  the  workmen,  who  long  remem- 
bered the  conversation  of  their  masters  at  supper  by 
this  token.  But  '  the  great  trouble '  came  on,  and 
nothing  was  done.  Henry  died  in  the  Tower,  and 
thence  his  corpse  was  taken  first  to  the  Abbey  of 
Chertsey,  and  then  (in  consequence,  it  was  said,  of  the 
miracles  which  attracted  pilgrims  to  it)  was  removed 
by  Richard  III.  to  St.  George's  Chapel  at  Windsor  — 
perhaps  to  lie  near  the  scene  of  his  birth,  perhaps  to 
be  more  closely  under  the  vigilant  eye  of  the  new 
dynasty. 

For  now  it  was  that  the  attachment  which  so  many 
Princes  had  shown  to  Windsor  became  definitely  fixed. 
Edward  IV.,  though  h^'  died  at  Westminster,  though 


190  THE   ROYAL  TOMBS 

his  obsequies  were  celebrated  in  St.  Stephen's  Chapel 
and  in  the  Abbey,  and  though  to  his  reign  we  probably 
withdrawal  owe  ^ne  scree11  w'hicli  divides  the  Shrine  from 
dynasty  tok  tlie  ^&l  Altar,  was  buried  in  St.  George's 
Windsor.  Chapel,  over  against  his  unfortunate  rival. 
This  severance  of  the  York  dynasty  from  the  Con- 
fessor's Shrine  marks  the  first  beginning  of  the  senti- 
ment which  has  eventually  caused  the  Royal  Sepultures 
at  Westminster  to  be  superseded  by  Windsor.  The 
obligations  of  Edward  to  the  Sanctuary  which  had 
sheltered  his  wife  and  children  compelled  him  indeed 
to  contribute  towards  the  completion  of  the  Abbey. 
Here,  as  at  the  Basilica  of  Bethlehem,  fourscore  oaks 
Edward  iv.,  were  granted  by  him  for  the  repairs  of  the 

died  April  9.  ...          „  .  .,  ...,.      , 

1483 :  roof.1     But,  whilst  Edward  lay  at   \\  mdsor, 

Windsor,       Geome  at  Tewkesburv,  Richard  at  Leicester, 

April  17, 

1483.  Edward  V.   and   his   brother  in  the    Tower, 

the  younger  George  and  his  sister  Mary  at  Windsor,2 
Cecilia  at  Quarre3  in  the  Isle  of  Wight,  Anne  at  Thet- 
ford  (now  at  Framlingham),  Catherine  at  Tiverton, 
Margaret  Bridget  at  Dartford,4  one  small  tomb  alone  — 
T)fJ"n,'  that  °f  Margaret,  a  child  of  nine  months  old 
—  found  its  way  into  the  Abbey.  It  now 
stands  by  Richard  II.'s  monument,  apparently  moved 
from  '  the  altar  end,  afore  St.  Edward's  Shrine.'  Anne 
Anne  of  Neville,  tlie  Queen  of  Richard  III.,  and  daugh- 
1485.  ter  of  the  Earl  of  Warwick,  is  believed  to  be 

1  Neale,  i.  92;  Tobler's  Bethlehem,  p.  112.     See  Chapter  V. 

2  Green's  Princesses,  iii.  402. 

3  Ibid.  iv.  436.  —  Her  first  husband,  Lord  Wells,  was  buried  in  the 
Abbey  1498,  in  the  Lady  Chapel,  not  yet  destroyed.     (Ibid'  iii.  428.) 
Her  connection  with  the  Isle  of  Wight  was  through  her  second   hus- 
band, Thomas  Kyine,  a  Lincolnshire  gentleman,  with  whom  she  lived 
at  East  Standen. 

4  Ibid.  iii.  437 ;  iv.  11,  12,  38,  47. 


OF  THE    HOUSE   OF   LANCASTER.  191 

ouried  on  the  south  side  of  the  altar ; l  Anne  Mowbray, 
the  betrothed  wife  of  young  Ilichard  of  York,  Anne 

•       .1        T   T       ™  i  9  Mowbray 

in  the  Islip  Chapel/  or  York. 

But  the  passion  for  the  House  of  Lancaster  still  ran 
underground ;  and  when  the  Civil  Wars  were  closed, 
its  revival  caused  the  Abbey  to  leap  again  into  new 
life.  In  every  important  church  an  image  of  the 
sainted  Henry  had  been  erected.  Even  in  York  Min- 
ster pilgrimages  were  made  to  his  figure  in  the  rood- 
screen,  which  it  required  the  whole  authority  Devotion  to 
of  the  Northern  Primate  to  suppress.3  This  Ht-'"r>'NI- 
general  sentiment  could  not  be  neglected  by  the  Tudor 
King.  He  had  from  the  first  bound  up  his  fortunes 
with  those  of  Henry  of  Lancaster,  amongst  whose 
miracles  was  conspicuous  the  prediction  that  Henry 
Tudor  would  succeed  him.4  Accordingly,  he  deter- 
mined to  reconstruct  at  Windsor  the  Chapel  Claimsof 
at  the  east  end  of  St.  George's,  originally  ctertswy', 
founded  by  Henry  III.  and  rebuilt  by  Ed-  ^Sfe.rSfor 
ward  III.,  in  order  to  become  the  receptacle  '' 
of  the  sacred  remains,  with  which  he  intended  that  his 
own  dust  should  mingle.  Then  it  was  that  the  two 
Abbeys  of  Chertsey  and  of  Westminster  put  in  their 
claims  for  the  body  —  Chertsey  on  the  ground  that 
Richard  II I.  had  taken  it  thence  by  violence  to  Wind- 
sor; Westminster  on  the  ground  that  the  King,  as  we 
have  seen,  had  in  his  lifetime  determined  there  to  lie 
buried.  Old  vergers,  servants,  and  workmen,  who  re- 
membered the  dates  only  by  the  imperfect  sign  that 
they  were  before  or  after  'the  field  of  York,  or  of  St. 

1  Crull,  p    23. —  A  leaden  coffin  was  found   there   in    I860.     The 
utone  is  supposed  to  he  preserved  in  the  pavement  of  the  S.  Transept. 

2  Keepe.  m.  a  Order  of  Archbishop  Booth,  October  27,  1479. 
4  i'auli,  iii.  634. 


192  THE   ROYAL   TOMBS 

Albans,'  had  yet  a  perfect  recollection  of  the  very  words 
which  Henry  had  used ;  and  the  Council,  which  was 
held  at  Greenwich,  to  adjudicate  the  triangular  contest, 
Decision  in  decided  in  favour  of  Westminster.1  Windsor 
west!-'  °  made  a  stout  resistance,  and  continued  its 
I'm  u  endeavours  to  reverse  the  decree  by  legal 
processes.  But  the  King  and  Council  persevered  in 
carrying  out  what  were  believed  to  have  been  Henry's 
intentions ;  and,  accordingly,  the  unfinished  chapel  at 
Windsor  was  left  to  the  singular  fate  which  was  to 
befall  it  in  after-times  —  the  sepulchre  designed  for 
Cardinal  Wolsey,  the  Eoman  Catholic  chapel  of  James 
II.,  the  burial-place  of  the  family  of  George  III., 
and  finally  the  splendid  monument  of  the  virtues 
of  the  Saxon  Prince,  whose  funeral  rites  it  in  part 
witnessed. 

At  Westminster  every  preparation  was  made  to  re- 
ceive the  saintly  corpse.  Henry  VII.  characteristically 
stated  the  great  expenses  to  which  he  was  subjected, 
and  insisted  on  the  Convent  of  Westminster  contrib- 
uting its  quota  of  500/.,  (equal  to  5000/.  of  our  money) 
for  transference  of  '  the  holy  body.'  2  This  sum  was 
duly  paid  by  Abbot  Fascet.  The  King  determined  to 
found  at  Westminster  a  Chapel  yet  more  magnificent 
than  that  which  he  had  designed  at  Windsor,  a  greater 
than  the  Confessor's  Shrine,  in  order  '  right  shortly  to 
translate  into  the  same  the  body  and  reliques  of  his 
continued  uncle  of  blissful  memory,  King  Henry  VI.'  3 
p);,*j.ie  Pope  Julius  II.  granted  the  licence  for  the 
removal,  declaring  that  the  obscurity  in  which 
the  enemies  of  Henry  had  combined  to  envelope  his 

1  Archives. 

2  Ibid. 

3  Will  of  Henry  VII.     (Neale,  i.  pt.  ii.  p.  7.) 


OF  THE  HOUSE  OF  LANCASTER.       193 

miracles,  first  at  Chertsey  and  then  at  Windsor,  was  at 
last  to  be  dispersed.1 

This  was  the  last  cry  of  '  the  aspiring  blood  of  Lan- 
caster.'     Suddenly,   imperceptibly,   it   'sank   into   the 
ground.'     The  language  of  the  Westminster  Chapelof 
records  certainly  implies  that  the  body  was  ft'we^1' 
removed   (according   to  a.  faint   tradition,  of  imnster- 
which  no  distinct  trace  remains)  to  some  'place  un- 
distinguished '  in  the  Abbey.2     But  the  language  of  the 
wills  both  of  Henry  VII.3  and  of  Henry  VIII.  no  less 
clearly   indicates    that    it    remains,   according   to   the 
Windsor  tradition,  in  the  south  aisle  of  St.  Chancred 
George's  Chapel.     Unquestionably,  no  solemn  chaifeieof 
'translation'  ever  took  place.     The  'canonisa-  Helll'y\ii- 
tion,'  which  the  Pope  had  promised,  was  never  carried 
out.     The    Chapel   at   Westminster   was   still    pushed 
forward,  but  it  became  the  Chapel,  not  of  Henry  VI., 
but  of  Henry  VII. 

It  may  be  that  this  change  of  purpose  represents  the 
penurious  spirit  of  the  King,  whose  features,  even  in 
his  monumental  effigy,  were  thought  by  an  observant 
antiquary  to  indicate  'a  strong , reluctance  to  quit  the 
possessions  of  this  world ; ' 4  and  that  the  failure  of 
canonisation  was  occasioned  by  his  unwillingness,  par- 
simonious even  beyond  the  rest  of  his  race,  to  part  with 
the  sum  requisite  for  so  costly  an  undertaking.  But  it 
may  be  that,  as  he  became  more  firmly  seated  on  his 
throne,  the  consciousness  of  his  own  importance  in- 
creased, and  the  remembrance  of  his  succession  to 
Henry  of  Lancaster  was  gradually  merged  in  the  proud 

J  "Hvtrior,  xiii.  103,  104  ;  Dugdale,  i.  315. 

2  Malcolm,  pp.  218,  225;  Speed,  p.  8(i'J. 

3  Neale  (part  ii.),  i.  7.     Will   of   Henry  VIII.     (Fuller's   Church 
Hint.  A.  r>.  1546.)  *  Peimaiit,  p.  2'J. 

VOL.  i.  — 13 


194  THE   ROYAL   TOMBS 

thought  that,  as  the  founders  of  a  new  dynasty  he  and 
his  Queen  would  take  the  chief  place  '  in  the  common 
sepulchre  of  the  kings  of  this  realm '  with  '  his  noble 
progenitors.' l 

The  Chapel  of  Henry  VII.  is  indeed  well  called  by 
his  name,  for  it  breathes  of  himself  through  every  part. 
It  is  the  most  signal  example  of  the  contrast  between 
his  closeness  in  life,  and  his  '  magnificence  in  the  struc- 
tures he  had  left  to  posterity  ' 2  • —  King's  College 
Chapel,  the  Savoy,  Westminster.  Its  very  style  was 
believed  to  have  been  a  reminiscence  of  his  exile,  being 
'  learned  in  France,'  by  himself  and  his  companion  Fox.3 
His  pride  in  its  grandeur  was  commemorated  by  the 
ship,  vast  for  those  times,  which  he  built,  'of  equal  co.it 
with  his  Chapel,'  '  which  afterwards,  in  the  reign  of 
Mary,  sank  in  the  sea  and  vanished  in  a  moment.' 4 

It  was  to  be  his  chantry  as  well  as  his  tomb,  for  he 
was  determined  not  to  be  behind  the  Lancastrian 
The  princes  in  devotion ;  and  this  unusual  anxiety 

for  the  sake  of  a  soul  not  too  heavenward  in 
its  affections  expended  itself  in  the  immense  apparatus 
of  services  which  he  provided.  Almost  a  second  Abbey 
was  needed  to  contain  the  new  establishment  of  monks, 
who  were  to  sing  in  their  stalls  5  '  as  long  as  the  world 
shall  endure.' 6  Almost  a  second  Shrine,  surrounded 

1  Will  of  Henry  VII. 

'-'  Fuller's  Worthies,  iii.  555. 

3  Speed,  p.  757.    This,  however,  is  a  mistake.    It  is  partly  English. 

4  Fuller's  Worthies,  iii.  553. 

5  The  stalls  at  that  time,  and  till  the  arrangements  for  the  Knights 
of  the  Bath,  left  free  entrance  from  the  main  Chapel  into  the  north 
and  south  aisle  on  each  side.     These  entrances  were  used  on  the  occa- 
sion of  the  royal  funerals  in  those  aisles.     See  MS.  Heralds'  College  in 
the  funeral  of  Charles  II. 

6  Malcolm,  pp.  226,  227.     For  the  cost  (.£30,000,  for   purchasing 
lands  for  his  chapel)  see  Pauli,  y.  644. 


OF   THE   TUDORS.  195 

by  its  blazing  tapers,  and  shining  like  gold  with  its 
glittering  bronze,  was  to  contain  his  remains. 

To  the  Virgin  Mary,  to  whom  the  chapel  was  dedi- 
cated, he  had  a  special  devotion.1  Her  '  in  all  his 
necessities  he  had  made  his  continual  refuge  ; ' 

The  Saiuts. 

and  her  figure,  accordingly,  looks  down  upon 
his  grave  from  the  east  end,  between  the  apostolic 
patrons  of  the  Abbey,  Peter  and  Paul,  with  'the  holy 
company  of  heaven  —  that  is  to  say,  angels,  archangels, 
patriarchs,  prophets,  apostles,  evangelists,  martyrs,  con- 
fessors, and  virgins,'  to  '  whose  singular  mediation  and 
prayers  he  also  trusted,'  including  the  royal  saints  of 
Britain,  St.  Edward,  St.  Edmund,  St.  Oswald,  St.  Mar- 
garet of  Scotland,  who  stand,  as  he  directed,  sculptured, 
tier  above  tier,  on  every  side  of  the  Chapel ; 2  some 
retained  from  the  ancient  Lady  Chapel ;  the  greater 
part  the  work  of  his  own  age.  Round  his  tomb 
stand  his  'accustomed  Avours  or  guardian  saints'  (as 
round  the  chapel  probably  were  their  altars),  to  whom 
'  he  calls  and  cries'  —  'St.  Michael,  St.  John  the  Bap- 
tist, St.  John  the  Evangelist,  St.  George,  St.  Anthony, 
St.  Edward,  St.  Vincent,  St.  Anne,  St.  Mary  Magdalene, 
and  St.  Barbara,'  each  with  their  peculiar  emblems,  — 
'  so  to  aid,  succour,  and  defend  him,  that  the  ancient 
and  ghostly  enemy,  nor  none  other  evil  or  damnable 
spirit,  have  no  power  to  invade  him,  nor  with  their 
wickedness  to  annoy  him,  but  with  holy  prayers  to  be 
intercessors  for  him  to  his  Maker  and  Redeemer.' 3 
These  were  the  adjurations  of  the  last  mediaeval  King, 
as  the  Chapel  was  the  climax  of  the  latest  niedia'val 
architecture,  in  the  very  urgency  of  the  King  s  anxiety 

1  Will  of  Henry  VII.     (Xealo.  ii.  6,  7  ) 

2  For  the  enumeration  of  these  .see  Neale,  ii.  39. 
a  Will  of  Henry  Vli.     (Scale,  ii.  6,  7.) 


196  THE    ROYAL   TOMBS 

for  the  perpetuity  of  those  funeral  ceremonies,  we  seem 
to  discern  an  unconscious  presentiment  of  terror  lest 
their  days  were  numbered. 

But,  although  in  this  sense  the  Chapel  hangs  on 
tenaciously  to  the  skirts  of  the  ancient  Abbey  and  the 
ancient  church,  yet  that  solemn  architectural  pause  at 
its  entrance  —  which  arrests  the  most  careless  observer, 
and  renders  it  a  separate  structure,  a  foundation  '  ad- 
joining the  Abbey,'  rather  than  forming  part  of  it l  — 
corresponds  with  marvellous  fidelity  to  the  pause  and 
The  close  of  break  in  English  history  of  which  Henry 

t  it-  Middle       _,TTT  .  .  . 

Ages.  VII.  s  reign  is  the  expression.     It  is  the  close 

of  the  Middle  Ages :  the  apple  of  Granada  in  its  orna- 
Tt.e  close  ments  shows  that  the  last  Crusade  was  over ; 

of  the  Civil       .  .  .  .  . 

vars.  its  Howing  draperies  and   classical   attitudes 

indicate  that  the  Renaissance  had  already  begun.  It  is 
the  end  of  the  Wars  of  the  Eoses,  combining  Henry's 
right  of  conquest  with  his  fragile  claim  of  hereditary 
descent.  On  the  one  hand,  it  is  the  glorification  of  the 
victory  of  Bosworth.  The  angels,  at  the  four  corners 
of  the  tomb,  held  or  hold  the  likeness  of  the  crown 
which  he  won  on  that  famous  day.  In  the  stained 
glass  we  see  the  same  crown  hanging  on  the  green  bush 
in  the  fields  of  Leicestershire.  On  the  other  hand,  like 
the  Chapel  of  King's  College  at  Cambridge,  it  asserts 
everywhere  the  memory  of  the  '  holy  Henry's  shade ; ' 
the  Ked  Eose  of  Lancaster  appears  in  every  pane  of 
glass :  and  in  every  corner  is  the  Portcullis  —  the 
'  Altera  securitas,' 2  as  he  termed  it,  with  an  allusion  to 
its  own  meaning,  and  the  double  safeguard  of  his  suc- 
cession—  which  he  derived  through  John  of  Gaunt 

1  Neale,  i.  18.     For  the  Bulls  relating  to  the  Chapel,  see  Dugdale, 
i.  316-320. 

'2  Keale  (part  ii.),  i.  28;  Bioy.  Brit.  ii.  669;  Roberts,  ii.  257. 


OF  THE   TUDORS.  197 

from  the  Beaufort  Castle  in  Anjou,  inherited  from 
Blanche  of  Navarre  by  Edmund  Crouchback  ; 1  whilst 
Edward  IV.  and  Elizabeth  of  York  are  commemorated 
by  intertwining  these  Lancastrian  symbols  with  the 
Greyhound  of  Cecilia  Neville,  wife  of  Eichard  Duke  of 
York,  with  the  Rose  in  the  Sun,  which  scattered  the 
mists  at  Barnet,  and  the  Falcon  on  the  Fetterlock,2 
by  which  the  first  Duke  of  York  expressed  to  his  de- 
scendants that  '  he  was  locked  up  from  the  hope  of  the 
kingdom,  but  advising  them  to  be  quiet  and  silent,  as 
God  knoweth  what  may  come  to  pass.' 

It  is  also  the  revival  of  the  ancient,  Celtic,  British 
element  in  the  English  monarchy,  after  centuries  of 
eclipse.  It  is  a  strange  and  striking  thought,  The  revmii 

'  of  the  Celtic 

as  we  mount  the  steps  of  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel,  races, 
that  we  enter  there  a  mausoleum  of  princes,  whose  boast 
it  was  to  be  descended,  not  from  the  Confessor  or  the 
Conqueror,  but  from  Arthur  and  Llewellyn  ; 3  and  that 
round  about  the  tomb,  side  by  side  with  the  emblems 
of  the  great  English  Houses,  is  to  be  seen  the  Red 
Dragon4  of  the  last  British  king,  Cadwallader  —  'the 
dragon  of  the  great  Pendragonship  '  of  Wales,  thrust 
forward  by  the  Tudor  king  in  every  direction,  to  sup- 
plant the  hated  White  Boar  5  of  his  departed  enemy  — 

1  Stow,  p.  11. 

-  He  built  his  castle  of  Fotheringay  in  the  form  of  a  Fetterlock, 
and  gave  to  his  sons,  who  asked  the  Latin  for  'fetterlock,'  the  expres- 
sive answer,  /fir  IKK-  /«>/•  tun-dtis.  (Dallaway's  Heraldic  Int/uiries,  .384, 
.'585.)  Edward  IV.  built  the  so-called  Horse-shoe  Cloister  also  in  the 
form  of  a  fetterlock. 

:i  Owen  Tudor,  the  brother  of  Edmund,  who  was  monk  in  the 
Abbey,  was  buried  in  the  Chapel  of  St.  Hlaise.  (Crull,  p.  :>.•}.'?.) 

4  (Jrafton,  ii.  158. — The  banner  of  the  Red  Dragon  of  Cadwallader, 
on  white  and  green  silk,  was  carried  at  Bosworth.  Hence  the  Rouge 
Dragon  Herald. 

&  Roberta's  York  and  Lancaster,  ii.  461,  463. 


198  THE  ROYAL  TOMBS 

the  fulfilment,  in  another  sense  than  the  old  Welsh  bards 
had  dreamt,  of  their  prediction  that  the  progeny  of 
Cadwallader  should  reign  again  :  — 

Visions  of  glory,  spare  my  aching  sight, 

Ye  unborn  ages,  crowd  not  on  my  soul ! 

Xo  more  our  long-lost  Arthur  we  bewail :  — 

All  hail,  ye  genuine  kings  !   Britannia's  issue,  hail !  ' 

These  noble  lines  well  introduce  us  to  the  great 
Chapel  which,  as  far  as  the  IJoyal  Tombs  of  the  Abbey 
The  be-in  are  concerned,  contains  within  itself  the  whole 
mn't-rn  future  history  of  England.  The  Tudor  sover- 
En-iand.  eigns,  uniting  the  quick  understanding  and 
fiery  temper  of  their  ancient  Celtic  lineage  with  the  iron 
will  of  the  Plantagenets,  were  the  fit  inaugurators  of 
the  new  birth  of  England  at  that  critical  season  —  for 
guiding  and  stimulating  the  Church  and  nation  to  the 
performance  of  new  duties,  the  fulfilment  of  new  hopes, 
the  apprehension  of  new  truths. 

In  the  eighteenth  year  of  his  reign,  '  on  the  24th  day 
of  January,  at  a  quarter  of  an  .hour  before  three  of  the 
J;m  .,4  clock  at  afternoon  of  the  same  day,'  2  the  first 
Buu'.iins  of  stone  of  the  new  Chapel  was  laid  by  Abbot 
Islip,  Sir  Pieginald  Bray  the  architect,  and 
others.  In  this  work,  as  usual,  the  old  generation  was 
at  once  set  aside.  Not  only  the  venerable  White  liose 
Inn  of  Chaucer's  garden,  but  the  old  Chapels  of  St. 
Mary  and  of  St.  Erasmus,3  were  swept  away  as  ruth- 
lessly as  the  Norman  Church  had  been  by  Henry  III. 
'  His  granddame  of  right  noble  memory,  Queen  Cath- 
erine, wife  to  King  Henry  V.,  and  daughter  of  Charles 

1  Gray's  Bard.  -  Xeale,  ii.  6;  Holinshed,  iii.  529. 

3  Probably  in  compensation  for  this  the  small  chapel  at  the  entrance 
of  that  of  St.  Johu  the  Baptist  was  dedicated  to  St.  Erasmus. 


aa     •  •     o/u\o       in 

JVx  I  !    I  ,  D  •  I      I   « 

^1     rq?       ?    *        '    °       ^^'t 

JMf      HI!!  IM  |j-;^ 


PLAN   OF    THE   TOMBS    OF   THE    ABBEY    IN    1509. 


PLAN  OF  THE  CHAPEL  OF  HEXRY  VII. 


OF   THE   TUDORS.  199 

King  of  France '  (for  whose  sake,  amongst  others,  he 
had  wished  to  be  interred  here),  was  thrust  carelessly 
into  the  vacant  space  beneath  her  husband's  Chantry. 
One  last  look  had  been  cast  backwards  to  the  Plan- 
tagenet  sepulchres.    His  infant  daughter  Eliz-  Tomb  of 
abeth,  aged  three  years  and  two  months,  was  f^0^ 
buried,  with  great l  pomp,  in  a  small  tomb  at  Sept  149°- 
the  feet  of  Henry  III.     His  infant  son  Edward,  who 
died  four  years  afterwards  (1499),  was  also  buried  in 
the  Abbey.     The  first  grave  in  the  new  Chapel  Elizabethof 
was  that  of  his  wife,  Elizabeth  of  York.     She  fa°^'da£d 
died,  in  giving  birth  to  a  child,  who  survived  burie^Feb. 
but  a  short  time  :  25<  1503' 

Adieu,  sweetheart !  my  little  daughter  late, 
Thou  shalt,  sweet  babe,  such  is  thy  destiny, 
Thy  mother  never  know  ;  for  here  I  lie. 
...  At  Westminster,  that  costly  work  of  yours, 
Mine  own  dear  lord,  I  now  shall  never  see.2 

The  first  stone  of  the  splendid  edifice  in  which  she  now 
lies  had  been  laid  but  a  month  before,  and  she  was 
meanwhile  buried  in  one  of  the  side 3  chapels.  The 
sumptuousness  of  her  obsequies,  in  spite  of  Henry's 
jealousy  of  the  House  of  York,  and  of  his  parsimonious 
habits,  was  justly  regarded  as  a  proof  of  his  affection.4 
At  the  entrance  of  the  city  she  was  met  by  twenty- 
seven  maidens  all  in  white  with  tapers,  to  commemo- 
rate her  untimely  death  in  her  twenty-seventh  year. 
Six  years  afterwards  he  died  at  the  splendid  palace 

1  Green's    Princesses,    iv.   507;    Stow's    Surrey,  ii.  600;    Sandford, 
p.  478. 

'2  More's  Elegy  on  Elizabeth  of  York. 

3  From  a  record  communicated  by  Mr.  Poyne  Bell. 

4  Antit/.  Repos.,  p.  654  ;  Sandford,  pp.  469-471  ;  Strickland,  iv.  60-62. 
—  He  spent  £2832  6s.  8</.  upon  the  funeral  ( Heralds' College,  Privy 
Purse  MS.) 


200  THE    ROYAL  TOMBS 

which  he  had  called  by  his  own  name  of  Eichmond, 
Death  or  at  the  ancient  Sheen.  His  vehement  protesta- 
saTm-day,  "  tions  of  amendment  —  bestowing  promotions, 
1509.  "  if  he  lived,  only  on  virtuous,  able,  and  learned 
men,  executing  justice  indifferently  to  all  men  ;  his 
expressions  of  penitence,  passionately  grasping  the  cru- 
cifix, and  beating  his  breast,  were  in  accordance  with 
that  dread  of  his  last  hour,  out  of  which  his  sepulchre 
Burial  of  had  arisen.  The  funeral  corresponded  to  the 

Henry  VII  , 

May  H,  iu09.  grandeur  of  the  mausoleum,  which  was  now 
gradually  advancing  to  its  completion.  From  Eich- 
mond the  procession  came  to  St.  Paul's,  where  elaborate 
obsequies  were  closed  by  a  sermon  from  Fisher,  Bishop 
of  Eochester.  At  Westminster,  after  like  obsequies, 
and  a  sermon  from  Fitz-james,  Bishop  of  London,  who 
had  already  preached  on  the  death  of  the  Queen  and 
of  Prince  Arthur  (on  Job  xix.  21),  'the  black  velvet 
coffin,  marked  by  a  white  satin  cross  from  end  to  end,' 
was  deposited,  not,  as  in  the  burials  of  previous  Kings, 
in  the  raised  tomb,  but  in  the  cavernous  vault  beneath, 
by  the  side  of  his  Queen.  The  Archbishops,  Bishops, 
and  Abbots  stood  round,  and  struck  their  croziers  on 
the  coffin,  with  the  word  Absolvimus.  The  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury  (Warham)  then  cast  in  the  earth.  The 
vault  was  closed.  The  Heralds  stripped  off  their  ta- 
bards, and  hung  them  on  the  rails  of  the  hearse,  ex- 
claiming in  French,  'The  noble  King  Henry  YII.  is 
dead  !'  and  then  immediately  put  them  on  again,  and 
cried,  '  Vive  le  noble  Eoy  Henry  VIII. ! '  * 

So  he  '  lieth  buried  at  Westminster,  in  one   of  the 

stateliest  and  daintiest  monuments  of  Europe,  both  for 

the   chapel   and  the   sepulchre.     So  that  lie   dwelleth 

more  richly  dead,  in  the  monument  of  his  tomb,  than 

1  Lelaud,  Collect,  (part  ii.)  iv.  309. 


Henry  Wl.'s  Cbapel  Tomb. 


OF   THE   TUDORS.  201 

he  did  alive  in  Eichmond  or  any  of  his  palaces.  I  could 
wish,'  adds  his  magnificent  historian,  '  that  he  did  the 
like  in  this  monument  of  his  fame.' l 

His  effigy  represents  him  still  to  us,  as  he  was 
known  by  tradition  to  the  next  generation,  '  a 
comely  personage,  a  little  above  just  stature,2 
well  and  straight -limbed,  but  slender,'  with  his  scanty 
hair  and  keen  grey  eyes,3  '  his  countenance  reverend  and 
a  little  like  a  churchman  ; '  and  '  as  it  was  not  strange 

'  O 

or  dark,  so  neither  was  it  winning  or  pleasing,  but  as 
the  face  of  one  well  disposed.' 4  It  was  completed, 
within  twenty  years  from  his  death,  by  the  Florentine 
sculDtor  Torregiano,  the  fierce  rival  of  Michael  An^elo, 

j.  O  O 

who  '  broke  the  cartilage  of  his  enemy's  nose,  as  if  it  had 
been  paste.'  He  lived  for  most  of  that  time  within  the 
precincts  of  the  Abbey,  and  there  performed  the  feats 
of  pugilism  against  the  '  bears  of  Englishmen,'  of  which 
he  afterwards  boasted  at  Florence. 

Within  three  months  another  funeral  followed.     In 
the  south  aisle   of  the  Chapel,  graven    by   the   same 

skilful  hand,  lies  the  most  beautiful  and  ven-  „, 

Tomb  of 

erable  figure  that  the  Abbey  contains.     It  is  ^"p^t  <>f 

*  Richmond. 

Margaret  Beaufort,  Countess  of  Richmond  and  .I,?,i'''I'.-;J)""e 
Derby,  mother  of  Henry  VII.,  who  died,  and  "^  «'•' 
was  buried,  in  the  midst  of  the  rejoicings  of  her  grand- 
son's marriage  and  coronation  ;   her  chaplain   (Fisher) 
] (reaching    again,   with    a    far    deeper  earnestness,    the 
funeral   sermon,    on   the   loss  which,  to   him  at   least, 
could  never  lie  replaced.     '  Everyone  that  knew  her,' 
he  said,  'loved  her,  and  everything  that  she  said  or  did 
became  her.' 5  .  .  .  More  noble  and  more  refined  than  in 

1   Bacon's  Ifpuri/  VII.  iii.  417. 

-  '  Krontis  Imnns.  fades  angnsta,heroica  forma.'     (Epitaph.) 

:i  Grafton,  ii.  232.  4  Bacon,  p.  410.  °  Gmftoii,  ii.  237. 


202  THE   ROYAL  TOMBS 

any  of  her  numerous  portraits,  her  effigy  well  lies  in 
that  Chapel,  for  to  her  the  King,  her  son,  owed  every- 
thing. For  him  she  lived.  To  end  the  Civil  Wars  by 
his  marriage  with  Elizabeth  of  York  she  counted  as  a 
holy  duty.1  Her  tomb  bears  the  heraldic  2  emblems  of 
her  third  husband,  the  Earl  of  Derby.  But  she  still 
remained  faithful  to  the  memory  of  her  first  youthful 
love,  the  father  of  Henry  VII.  She  was  always  '  Mar- 
garet Richmond.' 

Her  outward  existence  belonged  to  the  mediaeval 
past.  She  lived  almost  the  life,  in  death  she  almost 

Effigy  of       wears  the  garb,  of  an  Abbess.    Even  her  mar- 
Margaret  of  ° 
Richmond,     riage  with  Edmund  Tudor  was  the  result  of  a 

vision  of  St.  Nicholas.  The  last  English  sigh  for  the 
Crusades  went  up  from  those  lips.  She  would  often 
say,  that  if  the  Princes  of  Christendom  would  combine 
themselves,  and  march  against  the  common  enemy,  the 
Turk,  she  would  most  willingly  attend  them,  and  be 
their  laundress  in  the  camp.3  The  bread  and  meat 
doled  out  to  the  poor  of  Westminster  in  the  College 
Hall  is  the  remnant  of  the  old  monastic  charity  which 
she  founded  in  the  Almonry.4 

But  in  her  monumental  effigy  is  first  seen,  in  a  direct 
form,  the  indication  of  the  coming  changes,  of  which 
her  son  and  his  tomb  are  so  tragically  unconscious. 

Foremost  and  bending  from  her  golden  cloud, 
The  venerable  Margaret  see  ! 

So  the  Cambridge  poet5  greets  the  Foundress  of  St. 
John's  and  Christ's  Colleges,  as  of  the  two  first  Di- 

1  Hallstead's  Margaret  Richmond,  p.  225. 

2  The  antelope  at  her  feet  is  the  supporter  of  the  arms  of  Lancaster. 
The  daisies  on  the  chapel  gates  represent  her  name. 

3  Camden's  Remains,  i.  357  ;  Fuller's  Worthies,  i.  167. 

*  Stow,  p.  476.     See  Chapter  V.  &  Gray's  Installation  Ode. 


Or   THE   TUDORS.  203 

vinity  Chairs  in  either  University.  She,  who  was  the 
instructress-general  of  all  the  Princes  of  the  Royal 
House,1  might  by  her  own  impulse  have  founded  those 
great  educational  endowments.  But  her  charity,  like 
that  of  her  contemporary,  Bishop  Fox,  the  founder  of 
Corpus  Christi  College  at  Oxford,  was  turned  into  aca- 
demical channels  by  the  warning  which  Fisher  gave 
her  of  the  approaching  changes,  in  which  any  merely 
conventual  foundations  would  perish,  and  any  collegiate 
institutions  would  as  certainly  survive.2  Caxton,  as  he 
worked  at  his  printing-press,  in  the  Almonry  which 
she  had  founded,  wras  under  her  special  protection;3 
and  '  the  worst  thing  she  ever  did :  was  trying  to  draw 
Erasmus  from  his  studies  to  train  her  untoward  step- 
son, James  Stanley,  to  be  Bishop  of  Fly.4  Strikingly 
are  the  old  and  the  new  combined,  as,  round  the  monu- 
ment of  that  last  mediaeval  Princess,  we  trace  the 
letters  of  the  inscription 5  written  by  that  first  and 
most  universal  of  the  Pieformers. 

We  feel,  as  we  stand  by  her  tomb,  that  we  are  ap- 
proaching the  great  catastrophe.      Yet  in  the  Abbey, 
as  in  history,  there  is  a  momentary  smoothness  in  the 
torrent  ere  it  dashes  below  in  the  cataract  of  the  Refor- 
mation.     It    was    Prince   Arthur's   death 6  —  1)eath  of 
that  silent  prelude  of  the  rupture  with  the  Arthur, 
See  of  Rome  —  which  intercepted  the  inagni-  Marriage'02 
ficent  window"   sent   by  the    magistrates  of 
Dort  from  Gouda  as  a  present  to  Henry  VII.  for  hi.s 

1  Jesse's  Rirhrml  III.,  p.  203.  2   Ilallstead,  p.  220. 

5  See  Chapter  V.  4  Coleridge's  Xort//crn   Wvrtltitx,  ii.  184. 

5  Erasmus  for  tliis  received  twenty  shillings. 

6  .£58  17.«.  fn{.  was  paid  to  the  Abbot  of  Winchester  for  a  hearse, 
possibly  for  Prince  Arthur  (Krcrrpta  Historica,  p.  \"2f). 

7  Now  in  St.  Margaret's  Church.     See  Its  curious  history  hi  Wai- 
cott's  Memorials  uj'  Westminster,  pp.  103,  136. 


204  THE   ROYAL   TOMBS 

Chapel,  as  a  wedding-gift  for  Prince  Arthur  and  Cathe- 
rine of  Arragon.     The  first  of  the  series  of  losses  which 
caused  Henry   VIII.   to  doubt  the  lawfulness  of  his 
marriage   with    Catherine  is  marked  by  the 

Death  of  " 

lien!-  Feb  grave  °f  tne  mfant  Prince  Henry,  who  lies 
2>,  1509.  a£  tjie  entrfmce  either  of  this  Chapel,  or  that 
of  the  Confessor.1  He  in  that  exulting  youth,  when 
all  seemed  so  bright  before  him,  had,  it  would  seem, 
contemplated  a  yet  further  enlargement  of  the  Abbey. 
Another  Chapel 2  was  to  rise  for  the  tomb  of 
tomb  of  himself  and  Catherine  of  Arragou.  '  Peter 

Henry  VIII.  .  „     _„. 

Torrisany,  or  the  city  or  Florence,  graver, 
was  still  to  prolong  his  stay  to  make  their  effigies. 
Their  sepulchre  was  to  be  one-fourth  more  grand  than 
that  of  Henry  VII.  His  father's  tomb  was  the  subject 
of  his  own  special  care.  The  first  draft  of  it  was  al- 
tered because  '  misliked  by  him;'  and  it  forms  the 
climax  of  Henry  VII. 's  virtues,  as  recorded  in  his  epi- 
taph, that  to  him  and  his  Queen  England  owed  a 
Henry  VIII.: 

Ilenricum  quibus  Octavum,  terra  Anglia,  debes. 

To  his  determination  that  his  father  should  be  hon- 
oured almost  as  a  canonised  saint,  was  probably  owing 
the  circumstance  that  besides  the  humbler  altar  at 
the  foot  of  the  tomb,  for  which  the  vacant  steps  still 
remain,  was  erected  by  the  same  sculptor  '  the  match- 
less altar ' 3  at  its  head,  as  for  the  shrine  of  another 
Confessor. 

1  Crull,  p.  218. — If  so,  perhaps  in  a  small  leaden  coffin  found  in 
186f>  before  the  High  Altar. 

2  Arcfufolot/ift,  xvi.  80. — A  reminiscence  of  this  mav  be  found  in 
the  name  of  '  The  Chapel  of  Henry  VIII.'  for  the  Kevestry.     (Dart,  i. 
64J     See  also  Chapter  III. 

3  Kyves's  Mercurius  Rusticus,  p.  155. 


OF  THE   TUDOKS.  205 

Nothing  shows  more  clearly  the  force  of  the  shock 
that  followed,  than  the  upheaving  even  of  the  solid 
rock  of  the  Abbey  as  it  came  on.  Nothing  shows 
more  clearly  the  hold  which  the  Abbey  had  laid  on 
the  affections  of  the  English  people,  than  that  it  stood 
the  shock  as  firmly  as  it  did. 

Not  all  the  prestige  of  Royalty  could  save  the  treas- 
ures of  the  Confessor's  Chapel.     Then,  doubtless,  dis- 
appeared not  only  the  questionable  relics  of  The  Refor- 
the  elder  faith,  but  also  the  coronet  of  Llew-  the  Abbey. 

153S 

ellyu,  and  the  banners  and  statues  round  the  August. 
Shrine.  Then  even  the  bones  of  the  Royal  Saint  were 
moved  out  of  their  place,  and  buried  apart,  till  Mary 
brought  them  back  to  the  Shrine  which  so  1546 
long  had  guarded  them.  Then  broke  in  the  Ja"-30- 
robbers  who  carried  off  the  brazen  plates  and  silver 
head  from  the  monument  of  Henry  V.1  Then  all 
thought  of  enlarging  or  adorning  the  Abbey  was  ex- 
tinguished in  the  mind  of  Henry,  who  turned  away, 
perhaps  with  aversion,  from  the  spot  connected  in  his 
mind  with  the  hated  marriage  of  his  youth,  and  deter- 
mined that  his  bones  should  be  laid  at  Windsor,  beside 
his  best  beloved  wife,  Jane  Seymour.2  Then,  as  the 
tide  of  change  in  the  reign  of  his  son  rose  higher  and 
higher,  the  monastic  buildings  became,  in  great  part, 
the  property  of  private  individuals  ;  the  Chapter  House 
was  turned  into  a  Record  Office ; ;j  and  the  Protector 
Somerset  was  believed  to  have  meditated  the  demoli- 
tion of  the  church  itself. 

The  Abbey,  however,  still  stands.  Tt  was  saved,  prob- 
ably in  Henry's  time  by  the  Royal  Tombs,  especially 

1  See  Chapter  VI. 

2  A  splendid  toinli  was  prepared  for  him  in  St.  George's  Chapel 
(See  Saudfurd,  p.  4(J4.)  3  See  Chapter  V. 


206  THE   ROYAL  TOMBS 

by  that  of  his  father  —  just  as  Peterborough  Cathe- 
dral was  spared  for  the  grave  of  his  wife,  Catherine 
of  Arragon,  and  St.  David's  (according  to  the  local 
tradition)  for  the  tomb  of  his  grandfather,  Edmund 
Tudor.  It  was  saved,  it  is  said,  under  the  more  piti- 
less Edward,  either  by  the  rising  of  the  inhabitants  of 
Westminster  in  its  behalf,  or  by  the  sacrifice  of  seven- 
teen manors  to  satisfy  the  needs  of  the  Protector.  The 
Shrine  too,  although  despoiled  of  its  treasures  within 
and  without  alone  of  all  the  tombs  in  England  which 
had  held  the  remains  of  a  canonised  saint,  was  allowed 
to  remain.1 

It  was  natural  that  under  Queen  Mary  so  great  a 
monument  of  the  past  should  partake  of  the  reaction 
of  her  reign.  Not  only  was  Westminster,  almost  alone 
of  the  monastic  bodies,  restored  to  something  of  its 
original  splendour,  but  the  link  with  Boyalty  was 
carefully  renewed.2  Mary's  first  anxiety  was  for  her 
brother's  fitting  interment.  Eor  a  whole  month  he 
EDWARD  lay  unburied,  during  the  long  negotiations  be- 
juiy  (>,  tween  Mary  and  her  ministers  as  to  the  mode 
s,  1553.  of  the  funeral  rites.3  But  they  ended  in  his 
burial,  not,  as  he  himself  probably  would  have  de- 
signed, beside  his  father  and  mother  at  Windsor,  but 
at  Westminster.  '  The  greatest  moan  was  made  for 
him  as  ever  was  heard  or  seen.'  He  was  brought  from 
Whitehall  the  night  before  'without  cross  or  light.'4 
The  procession  from  the  Palace  to  the  Abbey  was  a 
mass  of  black  velvet.  Side  by  side  with  the  banner  of 
his  own  mother  Jane  Seymour  waved  the  banner  of 
his  sister's  mother,5  Catherine  of  Arragon.  He  was 

1  See  Chapter  VI.  2  u,j(1- 

3  Fronde,  vi.  38,  42,  49,  58.  4   Grey  Friars'  Chronicle,  p.  82. 

6  Machyn's  Diary,  Aug.  8,  1553. 


OF   THE   TUDORS.  207 

the  first  King  that  had  been  buried  in  the  Abbey  since 
his  grandfather  had  built  his  gorgeous  receptacle  for 
the  Tudor  dynasty.  Not  in  the  vault  itself  of  Henry 
VII.,  fully  occupied  as  it  was  by  Henry  himself  and 
Elizabeth  of  York,  but  in  the  passage  by  which  it  is 
approached,  underneath  the  sumptuous  '  touchstone 
altar,  all  of  one  piece,'  with  its  'excellent  workman- 
ship of  brass,'1  'the  last  male  child  of  the  Tudor  line  ' 
was  laid.  Mary  herself  was  absent,  at  the  requiem 
sung  in  the  Tower  under  the  auspices  of  Gardiner. 
But,  by  a  hard-won  concession,  the  funeral  service  was 
that  of  the  Keformed  Church  of  England,  the  first  ever 
used  over  an  English  sovereign  ;  and  '  the  last  and  sad- 
dest function  of  his  public  ministry  that  Archbishop 
Cranmer  was  destined  to  perform,'  was  this  interment 
of  the  Prince  whom  he  had  baptized  and  crowned.2 
On  his  coffin  had  been  fastened  a  leaden  plate  bearing 
an  inscription,  doubtless  immediately  after  his  death, 
unique  in  the  tombs  of  English  sovereigns,  reciting 
that  he  was  '  on  earth,  under  Christ,  of  the  Church  of 
England  and  Ireland  the  supreme  head ; '  and  proceed- 
ing to  record  with  a  pathetic  and  singular  earnestness 
the  precise  hour  '  in  the  evening,'  when  in  the  close  of 
that  long  and  stormy  day  of  the  6th  of  July  he  '  de- 
parted from  this  life.'3 


1  Ryves's  Mercurins  Ruslicus,  p.  155;  Fuller's  Worthies,  ii.  37. — 
An  engraving  is  to  be  seen  in  Sandford  (p.  498).  It  resembled  Eliza- 
beth's tomb  in  style.  There  was  an  altarpieee  of  the  Resurrection,  sur- 
mounted by  angels,  in  terra  cotta,  at  the  top  holding  the  emblems  of 
the  1'assion,  and  a  dead  Christ  beneath.  These  were  the  work  of  Tor- 
regiano.  (See  the  Indenture  quoted  in  Xeale,  vol.  i.  pt.  ii.  58.) 

'•*  Fronde,  vi.  58.  —  Day,  Bishop  of  Chichester,  'preached  a  good 
sermon.'  and  Cranmer  administered  the  Communion,  'and  that  poorly.' 
(Strvpe's  E.  M.  vol.  ii.  pt.  ii.  p.  \2'2;  (irc/j  Friars'  Chronicle,  p.  82.) 

3  See  Appendix. 


208  THE   ROYAL   TOMBS 

It  is  one  of  our  many  paradoxes,  that  the  first  Protes- 
tant Prince  should  have  thus  received  his  burial  from 
the  bitterest  enemy  of  the  Protestant  cause,  and  that 
Tomb  of  the  tomb  under  which  he  reposed  should  have 
hdwurd  \  i.  |3een  t|ie  ajtar  buiit  for  the  chanting  of  masses 

which  he  himself  had  been  the  chief  means  of  abolish- 
ing. It  is  a  still  greater  paradox,  that  'he,  who  de- 
served the  best,  should  have  no  monument  erected  to 
his  memory,' l  and  that  the  only  royal  memorial  de- 
stroyed 2  by  the  Puritans  should  have  been  that  of  the 
ouly  Puritan  Prince  who  ever  sate  on  the  English 
throne. 

The  broken  chain  of  royal  sepulchres,  which  Mary 
thus  pieced  anew  in  her  brother's  grave,  was  carried 
Ainipof  on.  Anne  of  Cleves,  a  friend  both  to  Mary 

C'leves,  died  ,     _          ,       ,  ..  .    . 

J»iy  n,        and   Elizabeth  —  whose   strange   vicissitudes 

Imrifd  Aug.  3 

4,  ioo7.  had  conducted  her  from  her  quiet  Lutheran 
birthplace  in  the  Castle  of  Cleves,  to  a  quiet  death  as  a 
Pioman  Catholic  convert,  at  Chelsea—  was  interred,  by 
Mary's  restored  monks,  on  the  south  side  of  the  altar. 
She  was  carried 3  past  St.  James's  Palace  and  Charing 
Cross.  Bonner,  as  Bishop  of  London,  and  Feckenham, 
as  Abbot  of  AVestminster,  rode  together.  The  scholars, 
the  almsmen,  and  the  monks  went  before.  Bonner 
sang  mass,  and  Eeckenham  preached.4  An  artist  was 
brought  from  Cleves  to  construct  the  tomb.  But  it 
was  left  to  be  finished  by  Dean  Neale  in  the  reign  of 
James  I.5 

1  Fuller's  Worthies,  ii.  .37. 

2  In  1643.     (Ryves's  Mfrcimns  Rust! ens,  p.  155.     See  Chapter  VI.) 
The  name  on  the  grave  was  first  inscribed  in  1866.     See  Appendix. 

3  Machyn's  Diary,  Aug.  3,  lf>f>7. 

4  Excerpta  Historica,  295.     The  funeral  ceremony  is  given,  303. 

5  Neale,  ii.  283.  —  It  is  marked  by  initials  A.  C.     A  bas-relief,  by 
some  supposed  to  have  been  intended  for  it,  was  found  in  1865  packed 


OF   THE   TUDORS.  209 

Mary  soon  followed.     With   'Calais  on  her  heart' 
she  was  borne  from  St.  James's  Palace  to  Henry  VII. 's 
Chapel,  and  thus  became  the  first  occupant  QUEEN 
of    the    north    aisle,    here    as    in    Edward's  NoV  17,  'ec 

1-1  T->  •    i  iTTi   •         buried  Dec. 

Chapel,   the   favoured   side.      .Bishop    White  13,15.08. 
preached  on  the  text  'A  living  dog  is  better  than  a 
dead  lion.'     Heath,  Archbishop  of  York,  closed  the  ser- 
vice.    The  black  cloth  in  which  the  Abbey  was  draped 
was  torn  down  by  the  people  before  the  cere-  obsefuiesof 
mony  l  was  well  over.     Her  obsequies  were,  ^ec^l^' 
with  one  exception,  the  last  funeral  solemnity  156a 
of  the  Eoman  Church  celebrated  in  the  Abbey :  that 
exception  was  the  dirge  and  requiem  ordered  by  Eliza- 
beth, a  few  days  later,  for  Charles  V.,  '  Emperor  of 
Rome.' 2 

The  grave  of  Mary  bore  witness  to  the  change  that 
succeeded  on  her  death.  The  altars  which  she  had  re- 
erected,  or  which  had  survived  the  devastation  of  her 
brother's  reign,  were  destroyed  by  her  sister.  A  iril 
The  fragments  of  those  which  stood  in  Henry  IML 
YII.'s  Chapel  were  removed,  and  carried  to  'where 
Mary  was  buried,  perhaps  toward  the  making  of  her 
monument  with  those  religious  stones.'  3  It  was,  how- 
ever, forty-five  years  before  the  memory  of  her  unhappy 
reign  would  allow  a  word  to  indicate  her  sepulchre. 
At  last  the  hour  of  reconciliation  came.  Queen  Eliza- 
beth, the  third  foundress  of  the  institution,  and  who 

in  the  Revestry.  It  wns  evidently  made  for  a  Roman  Catholic,  I  nit 
probably  one  of  a  later  date.  The  tomb  seems  to  have  been  apparently 
built  on  the  site  of  an  older  tomb  —  probably  of  an  Abbot.  See 
Chapter  VI. 

1  Machyn's  Diary,  Dec.  1,3,  1558. 

2  Stirling's  Cloister  Life  of  diaries   V.,  p.  251;  Machvn,  Dec.  23, 
1558. 

3  Strype's  Annals,  i.  pt.  i.  p.  400;  Machyn,  April  16,  1561. 
VOL.  i.  — 14 


•210  THE   ROYAL   TOMBS 

clung  to  it  with  peculiar  affection,  had  breathed  her  last 
on  the  cushioned  floor  in  Richmond  Palace.  The  body 
was  brought  by  the  Thames  to  Westminster  : 

The  Queen  did  come  by  water  to  Whitehall, 
The  oars  at  every  stroke  did  tears  let  fall.1 

With  these  and  other  like  exaggerations,  which,  bow- 
ever,  indicate  the  excess  of  the  national  mourning,  she 
was  laid  in  the  Abbey.     '  The  City  of  West- 

QCEEX  J  J 

E^ZABCTH,  mjlister  was  surcharged  with  multitudes  of  all 
A^n'r's'11  sorts  of  people,  in  their  streets,  houses,  win- 
dows, leads,  and  gutters,  that  came  to  see  the 
obsequy ;  and  when  they  beheld  her  statue  or  picture 
lying  upon  the  coffin,  set  forth  in  royal  robes,  having 
a  crown  upon  the  head  thereof,  and  a  ball  and  sceptre 
in  either  hand,  there  was  such  a  general  sighing, 
groaning,  and  weeping,  as  the  like  has  not  been  seen 
or  known  in  the  memory  of  man  ;  neither  doth  any 
history  mention  any  people,  time,  or  state,  to  make 
like  lamentation  for  the  death  of  their  sovereign.' 2 
In  the  twelve  banners  which  were  carried  before  her, 
her  descent  from  the  House  of  York  was  carefully  em- 
blazoned, to  the  exclusion  of  the  Lancastrian  line.3  On 
the  oaken  covering  of  the  leaden  coffin  was  carefully 
engraved  the  double  rose  with  the  simple  august  initials 
'E.  E.,  1603.'  Dean  Andrews  preached  the  funeral 
sermon.  Raleigh  was  present  as  captain  of  the  guard. 
It  was  his  last  public  act.  She  was  carried,  doubtless 

1  Camclen's  Remains,  p.  524.     See  Chapter  VI. 

2  Stow,  p.  815.     The  effect  was  increased  by  the  fact  that  so  many 
were  there  in  mourning  for  the  plague.     (St.  John's  Raleigh,  ii.  73.) 

3  Programme  of  the  funeral,  in  the  tract  called  England's  Mourning 
Garment,  and  Vetustn  Monumenta,  vol.  ii.  plate  18,  where  there  is  also 
an  engraving  of  a  sketch  of  it  (now  in  the  British  Museum)  supposed 
to  have  been  drawn  bv  Camden. 


OF  THE   TUDORS.  211 

by  her  own  desire,  to  the  North  Aisle  of  Henry  VII.'s 
Chapel,  to  the  unmarked  grave  of  her  unfortunate  pre- 
decessor. At  the  head  of  the  monument  raised  by  her 
successor  over  the  narrow  vault 1  are  to  be  read  two 
lines  full  of  a  far  deeper  feeling  than  we  should  natur- 
ally have  ascribed  to  him  —  '  Reg  no  consortes  ct  itrnd, 
h\c  obdormimus  Elizabetha  ct  Maria,  sororcs,  in,  spc 
resurrectionist  The  long  war  of  the  English  Eeforma  - 
tion  is  closed  in  those  words.  In  that  contracted  sep- 
ulchre, admitting  of  none  other  but  those  two,  the 
stately  coffin  of  Elizabeth  rests  on  the  coffin  of  Mary. 
The  sisters  are  at  one :  the  daughter  of  Catherine  of 
Arragon  and  the  daughter  of  Anne  Boleyn  repose  in 
peace  at  last. 

Her  own  monument  is  itself  a  landmark  of  English 
history  and  of  the  Abbey.  There  had  been  a  prediction, 
which  the  nameless  graves  of  Edward  and  Tomb  or 
Mary  had  thus  far  justified,  that  '  no  child  of  Eiiz^i-tii. 
Henry  VIII.  should  ever  be  buried  with  any  memory.' 
This  'blind  prophecy'  it  was  now  determined  to  frus- 
trate. '  Rather  than  fail  in  payment2  for  Queen  Eliza- 
beth's tomb,  neither  the  Exchequer  nor  London  shall 
have  a  penny  left.'  Considering  the  little  love  between 
the  two,  its  splendour  is  a  tribute  to  the  necessity  which 
compelled  the  King  to  recognise  the  universal  feeling 
of  the  nation.  Disfigured  as  it  is,  it  represents  the 

1  See   Appendix.      Compare    Washington    Irving's    Sketch    Bonk, 
p.  221. 

2  Letter  of   Viscount   Cranbourne   to  Sir   Thomas   Lake.     (State 
Papers,  1609  )     It  was  made  of  white  marble  and  touchstone  from  the 
Royal  store  at  Whitehall.     Warrant  of   James  I.  to  Viscount  Cian- 
hourne.     (Iliiil.)      The  cost,   which   was  not  to  exceed    L'fiOO   (iliid.), 
reached   .£965,  '  besides  stonework.'      It    was  erected    by    Maximilian 
Poutrani.     (MS.  in  the  possession  of  Baroness  North.)     For  the  wax 
effigy,  see  Chapter  IV. 


212  THE   ROYAL   TOMBS 

great  Queen  as  she  was  best  known  to  her  contempo- 
raries ;  and  of  all  the  monuments,  in.  the  Abbey,  it  was 
the  one  for  many  years  the  widest  known  throughout 
the  whole  kingdom.  Far  into  the  next  century,  Fuller 
could  still  speak  of  '  the  lively  draught  of  it,  pictured 
in  every  London  and  in  most  country  churches,  every 
parish  being  proud  of  the  shade  of  her  tomb ;  and  no 
wonder,  when  each  loyal  subject  created  a  mournful 
monument  for  her  in  his  heart.' l  It  is  probable  that 
this  thought  was  suggested  by  one  such  copy,  amongst 
many,  at  St.  Saviour's,  South wark,  with  the  lines  :  — 

St.  Peter's  Church  at  Westminster, 
Her  sacred  body  doth  inter  ; 
Her  glorious  soul  with  angels  sings, 
Her  deeds  have  patterns  been  for  kings, 
Her  love  in  every  heart  hath  room  ; 
This  only  shadows  forth  her  tomb.2 

So  ended  the  Tudor  tombs  in  the  Chapel  of  their 
Founder.  But  the  Stuarts  were  not  slow  in  vindicating 
their  right  to  be  considered  as  Kings  of  England,  by 
THE  regarding  Westminster  Abbey  as  their  new 

Dunfermline  or  Holyrood.  The  Scottish 
dynasty  lies  side  by  side  with  the  Welsh.  Already 
there  had  been  laid  in  the  western  end  of  the  South 
Aisle,  of  which  the  eastern  end  was  occupied  by  Mar- 
garet Countess  of  Richmond,  another  Margaret,  far  less 
Margaret  eminent  in  character,  but  claiming  her  place 
1577.  here  as  the  link  between  the  English  and  the 

Scottish  thrones.  Margaret  Lennox,  daughter  of  Mar- 
garet Tudor  by  her  second  husband,  and  wife  of  Stuart 
Earl  of  Lennox,3  after  a  series  of  family  disasters,  died 
in  poverty  at  what  was  then  the  suburban  village  of 

1   Church  History,  book  x.  §  12.  2  Lnndim'ana,  i.  243. 

3  For  her  character,  see  Froude's  History,  xi.  72. 


Chapel  and  Tomb  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots. 


OF   THE   STUARTS.  213 

Hackney ;  and  was,  in  consideration  of  her  kinship 
with  no  less  than  twelve  sovereigns  (as  her  epitaph 
records),  buried  here  at  the  expense  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 
The  monument,  'bargained  for'  arid  'appointed  to  be 
made'  by  herself  in  her  will,1  was  partly  erected  by  her 
grandson,  James  I.  Ptound  it  kneel  her  children  — 
Henry  Darnley,  marked,  by  the  fragments  of  the  crown 
above  his  head,  as  the  unfortunate  King  of  Charles 
Scotland ;  2  and  Charles  Stuart,  '  father  to  the  stuart 
Ladte  Arbell,'  who  at  his  mother's  request,  as  stated  in 
her  will,  was  removed  from  Hackney,  where  he  had 
been  buried,  to  the  vault  beneath.3 

Next  to  this  tomb  —  by  a  double  proximity,  as 
remarkable  as  that  which  has  laid  Mary  Tudor  with 
Elizabeth  —  is  the  grave  of  Mary  Stuart.  We  Mal.vQueen 

of  Scots ; 
executed 
1087;  trans- 
ferred from 

Peterborough.     But  the  first  Stuart  king  of  trough, 
England   who  raised   the    monument  to   his  c 
predecessor   was   not   likely  to   overlook   his    mother. 
The  letter  is  still  extant,  and  now  hangs  above  the  site 
of  her  grave  at  Peterborough,  in  which  James  I.  ordered 
the  removal  of  her  body  to  the  spot  where  he  had  com- 
manded a  memorial  of  her  to  be  made  in  the  Church  of 
Westminster,  '  in  the  place  where  the  kings  and  queens 
of  this  realm  are  commonly  interred,'  that  the  '  like 
honour    might    be    done    to    the    body    of    his    dearest 

1  The  will  is  printed  in  the  Darnley  Jewel,  p.  G3.  It  was  made  in 
the  year  of  her  death. 

-  '  He  is  here  entombed,'  says  Crull  (p.  95).  But  be  probablv  re- 
mains at  Holyrood. 

3  Epitn/i/i.  Through  the  leaden  coffin  the  parched  skin  could  be 
seen  in  1711.  (Crull,  p.  119.)  In  l(i:>4  was  laid  in  tin-  same  vault 
bis  cousin  Henry  Esme  Duke  of  Lennox.  (See  Chapter  IV.  and 
Appendix.) 


need  not  follow  her  obsequies  from  Fotherin-  ot'Scott! 
gay  Castle  to  the  neighbouring  Cathedral  of  1587:  tralls" 


214  THE   ROYAL    TOMBS 

mother,  and  the  like  monument  be  extant  of  her,  that 
had  been  done  to  his  dear  sister,  the  late  Queen  Eliza- 
beth.' 1  A  vault  was  made  in  the  South  Aisle,  close  to 
that  of  the  mother  of  Darnley.  Tn  the  centre  of  the 
north  wall  of  that  new  vault,  hereafter  to  be  thronged 
by  her  unfortunate  descendants,  the  leaden  coffin  was 
placed.2  Over  it  was  raised  a  monument  '  like  to  that 
of  Elizabeth,'  but  on  a  grander  scale,  as  if  to  indicate 
the  superiority  of  the  mother  to  the  predecessor,  of  the 
victim  to  the  vanquisher.  Her  elaborate  epitaph  is 
closed  by  the  words  from  St.  Peter,3  recommending  the 
Saviour's  example  of  patient  suffering.  Her  tomb  was 
revered  by  devout  Scots  as  the  shrine  of  a  canonised 
saint.  '  1  hear,'  says  Demster,  thirteen  years  after  the 
removal  of  the  remains  from  Peterborough,  '  that  her 
bones,  lately  translated  to  the  burial-place  of  the  Kings 
of  England  at  Westminster,  are  resplendent  witli  mira- 
cles.' 4  This  probably  is  the  latest  instance  of  a  miracle- 
working  tomb  in  England,  and  it  invests  the  question 
of  Queen  Mary's  character  with  a  theological  as  well  as 
an  historical  interest. 

In  the  tombs  of  the  two  rival  Queens,  the  series  of 
End  of  the     Royal    Monuments   is  brought   to    an    end5 

iioyal  Munu-    -p,,        1       •,  ,    ,  ,  ,        , 

ments.          -Llizabetli  and  Mary  are  the  last  sovereigns 

1  See  Appendix.  -  Ibid.  3  1  Pet.  i.  21,  22. 

4  Demster,  Hist.  Eccl.  Ant.  Scot.  ed.  Bahnatyne  Club,  1829. —It 
was  published  at  Bologna  in  1627,  but  written  before  1626,  as  the  au- 
thor died  in  1625.     Communicated  by  the  late  Joseph  Robertson,  of 
the  Register  House,  Edinburgh. 

5  This  blank  appears  to  have  struck  Sir  Roger  de  Coverlev.     '  The 
glorious  names  of  Henry  the  Fifth  and  of  Queen  Elizabeth  gave  the 
knight  great  opportunities  of  shining  and  of  doing  justice  to  Sir  Rich- 
ard Baker,  who,  as  our  knight  observed  with  some  surprise,  had  a  great 
many  kings  in  him,  whose  monuments  he. had  not  seen  in  the  Abbey.' 
( Spectator,  No.  329.)     The  context  seems  to  show  some  confusion  be- 
tween Henry  V.  and  Henry  VII. 


THE   STUARTS.  215 

in  whom  the  gratitude  of  a  successor  or  the  affec- 
tion of  a  nation  have  combined  to  insist  on  so  august 
a  memorial.  It  may  have  been  the  result  of  the  cir- 
cumstances or  the  character  of  the  succeeding  sover- 
eigns. Charles  I.  was  indifferent  to  the  memory  of 
James  I.  Charles  II.  wasted  on  himself  the  money 
which  Parliament  granted  to  him  for  the  monument  to 
Charles  I.  James  II.,  even  if  he  had  cared  sufficiently, 
reigned  too  short  a  time  to  erect  a  monument  to  his 
brother.  William  III.  and  Mary  were  not  likely  to  be 
honoured  by  Anne,  nor  Anne  by  George  I.,  nor  George  I. 
by  George  II.,  nor  George  II.  by  George  III.  But,  in 
fact,  a  deeper  than  any  personal  feeling  was  behind. 
Even  in  France  the  practice  was  dying  out.  At  St. 
Denys  the  royal  tombs  ceased  after  that  of  Henri  II. 
Princes  were  no  longer,  as  they  had  been,  the  only 
rulers  of  the  nation.  With  Elizabeth  began  the  tombs 
of  Poets'  Corner;  with  Cromwell  a  new  impetus  was 
given  to  the  tombs  of  warriors  and  statesmen ;  with 
William  III.  began  the  tombs  of  the  leaders  of  Parlia- 
ment,1 Other  figures  than  those  of  Kings  began  to 
occupy  the  public  eye.  Yet  even  as  the  monarchy, 
though  shrunk,  yet  continued,  so  also  the  graves, 
though  not  the  monuments,  of  sovereigns  —  the  tombs, 
if  not  of  sovereigns,  yet  of  royal  personages  —  still  keep 
up  the  shadow  of  the  ancient  practice. 

Two  infant  children  of  James  I.,  Mary  and  Sophia, 
lie  in  the  north  aisle  of  Henry  YII.'s  Chapel,  under 
the  urn,  which,  probably  from  their  neighbourhood, 
Charles  II.  erected,  in  what  may  thus  be  called  the 
Innocents'  Corner,  to  receive  the  remains  of  the  two 
murdered  York  princes  which  he  brought  from  the 

1  See  Chapter  IV. 


216  THE   ROYAL  TOMBS 

Tower.1  Of  Mary  —  the  first  of  his  children  born  in 
England,  and  therefore  the  first  'Princess  of  Great  Brit- 
Prim-ess  am>' —  James  used  'pleasantly  to  say,'  with 
i)e"yio'e<1  hi8  usual  mixture  of  theology  and  misplaced 

wit,  '  that  he  would  not  pray  to  the  Virgin 
Mary,  but  would  pray  for  the  Virgin  Mary.' 2  She  was, 
according  to  her  father,  '  a  most  beautiful  infant ; '  and 
her  death,  at  the  age  of  two  years  and  a  half,  is  de- 
scribed as  peculiarly  touching.  The  little  creature  kept 
repeating, '  I  go,  I  go '  — '  Away  T  go  ; '  and  again  a  third 
Princess  time,  'I  go,  I  go.' 3  Her  coffin  was  brought 
bulged  jm?!'  ni  a  coacn  to  the  Deanery,  and  thence  through 

the  cloisters  to  the  Abbey.4  In  the  same  year 
had  died  Sophia,5  rosula  rer/ia  prwpropcro  fato  dcccrpta, 
who  lived  but  a  day.  The  King  '  took  her  death  as  a 
wise  prince  should,  and  wished  her  to  be  buried  in  West- 
minster Abbey,  as  cheaply  as  possible,  without  any 
solemnity  or  funeral;'6  'sleeping  in  her  cradle  [the 
cradle  is  itself  the  tomb],  wherewith  vulgar  eyes,  es- 
pecially of  the  weaker  sex,  are  more  affected  (as  level 
to  their  cognisance,  more  capable  of  what  is  pretty  than 
what  is  pompous)  than  with  all  the  magnificent  mon- 
uments in  Westminster.'  " 


1  The  bones  of  the  York   Princes  were  placed  in  '  Monk's  vault,' 
1678  (Dart,'  i.  1G7),  but  only  till  the  urn  was  ready.     It  was  made  by 
Wren.     See  Appendix. 

2  Fuller's   Worthies,  i.  490, 

3  Green's  Princesses,  ii.  91-95.  —  Margaret  Lennox  was  chief  mourn- 
er.    (Sandford,  p.  537.) 

4  Dart,  i.  1G7. 

5  The  first  Sophia  of  English  history,  herself  called  after  her  grand- 
mother. Sophia  of  Denmark,  and  heqneathing  her  name  to  her  niece, 
the  Electress  of  Hanover.     (Strickland's  Queens  of  Scotland,  viii   286; 
Life  of  Arabella  Stuart,  ii.  89.) 

0  Fuller's    Worthies,  ii.   1^9.     It  cost    £140.     (Lodge's   //lustrations, 
iii-  309.)  -  Fuller's   Worthies,  i.  490. 


OF   THE   STUARTS.  '217 

Henry  Frederick,  Prince  of  Wales,  in  whose  grave 
were  buried  the  hopes  of  the  Puritan  party,  was  laid  in 
the   South  Aisle  of   the  Chapel,  'under  his  Prince 
grandmother's  monument,' l  in  the  vault  which  NOV.  V, 

buried  Dec. 

had  been  just  made  for  her.  He  died  '  on  a  s,  101-2. 
day  of  triumph  3  for  a  former  memorable  deliverance 
(Xov.  5),  and  in  the  heat  of  preparation  for  his  sister's 
marriage.  So  we  are  all  turned  to  black,  and  exceeding 
much  mournfulness.' 3  His  funeral  was  attended  by 
2,000  mourners.  Nine  banners  went  before,  each  pre- 
ceded by  'two  trumpeters  that  sounded  wofully.'  His 
effigy  was  clothed  with  the  richest  garments  he  had, 
which  '  did  so  lively  represent  his  person,  as  that  it  did 
not  only  draw  tears  from  the  severest  beholders,  but 
caused  a  fearful  outcry  among  the  people,  as  if  they 
felt  their  own  ruin  in  that  loss.'4  His  friend,  Arch- 
bishop Abbott,  who  had  attended  his  last  hours,  preached 
the  sermon  on  Psalm  Ixxxii.  6,  7.5  The  ab-  . ,.„,,„„ 

.AldiHMiii 

sence  of  any  special  monument  for  one  so  ^"-'"I'sept. 
deeply  lamented,  caused  much  comment  at  ~''10 
the  time.  Three  years  later  Arabella  Stuart,  daughter 
of  Charles  Lennox,  and  cousin  of  James  I.,  after  her 
troubled  life,  '  was  brought  at  midnight  by  the  dark 
river  from  the  Tower,'  and  laid  'with  no  solemnity' 
upon  the  coffin  of  Mary  Stuart  —  her  coffin  without  a 
plate,  and  so  frail,  that  the  skull  and  bones  were  seen 
as  far  back  as  the  record  of  visitors  extends,  visible 


1  So  the  Burial  Register.  -  State  Papers,  Nov.  11,  1612. 

3  Giles  Fletcher,  and  uthers  in  Pettigrew's  Eftituiihs,  p.  314. 

'  If  wise,  am.tzM,  depart  this  holy  grave, 
Nor  these  new  ashes  ask  what  name  they  have  : 
The  graver  in  concealing  them  was  wise, 
I'm-  whoso  learns,  strait  melts  in  tears  and  dies.' 

4  State  Papers,  Dec.  10,  1012. 

5  Birch's  Life  of  Hairy  Prince  of  Wales,  pp.  363,  522. 


218  THE   ROYAL   TOMBS 

through  its  shattered  frame.  'To  have  had  a  great 
funeral  for  one  dying  out  of  the  King's  favour  would 
have  reflected  on  the  King's  honour.' 1 

Anne   of    Denmark   next    followed.       She    died   at 

Somerset   House,  called,  from    her,   Denmark    House, 

after  making  a  dying  profession  of  her  faith, 

A  tine  of  ts  J       O 

cued'wuirch  ' free  from  P°PeiT-'  T^16  King,  detained  by 
^  |yUJ3ed  illness  at  Newmarket,  was  unable  to  be  present 
at  her  funeral.  It  was  postponed  again  and 
again  till  more  than  two  months  from  her  death.  '  There 
was  no  money  to  put  the  King's  servants  in  mourning.' 
It  was  intended  to  have  been  three  times  more  costly 
than  Queen  Elizabeth's,  but  the  public  expectation  was 
disappointed  with  the  general  effect.  There  was  a  long 
procession  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  ladies  in  black  — 
'  a  drawling  dolorous  sight  —  lagging,  tired  with  the 
length  of  the  way.'  The  Dean  of  Westminster  (Toun- 
son)  was  charged  to  find  '  a  convenient  place  for  her,' 
and  she  was  laid  —  at  least  she  now  lies  —  alone  in  a 
spacious  vault 2  in  the  north-easternmost  recess  of 
Henry  VII.'s  Chapel.  Archbishop  Abbott  preached  on 
Psalm  cxlvi.  3.3 

In  five  years  followed  King  James  himself.     Abbott, 

now  so  aged  as   to  need  a  supporter,  performed  the 

service.     The   French  ambassadors  would   be 

JAM  KS   I . , 

^Infried1'  content  with  no  place4  short  of  parity  with 
way  5,  ittto.  t]ie  c^^  mounWYj  Charles  I.,  even  though 


1  Register;  Keepe,  p.  105  ;  Life  of  Arabella  Stuart,  ii.  246,  298.  For 
the  tomb  of  Lewis  Stuart,  Duke  of  Richmond,  see  Chapter  IV. 

-  Heralds'  College  and  Lord  Chamberlain's  Office.  State  Papers, 
March  27,  April  16,  1619.  See  Appendix. 

3  The  Prince  Palatine  sate  in  the  Dean's  stall ;  the  Lord  Chancellor 
(Bacon)  in  the  scholars'  pew.     (Ilarl.  MS.  5176.) 

4  From  Sir  J.  Fiuet,  the  Master  of  the  Ceremonies.     (Philoxenus, 
p.  150.) 


OF   THE   STUARTS.  219 

they  had  occasionally  to  walk  in  the  kennel  to  keep 
their  places.  The  Venetian  ambassador  insisted  on 
wearing  the  same  mourning  as  the  French.  Not  with 
his  predecessor,  nor  with  his  mother,  nor  with  his  wife, 
nor  with  his  children,  but  in  the  august  tomb  of 
Henry  VII.,  founder  of  the  Chapel  and  of  the  dynasty 
through  which  the  Stuarts  claimed  their  throne,  was 
laid  the  founder  of  the  new  race  of  kings.  Edward  VI. 
must  for  the  moment  have  been  disturbed,  and  Eliza- 
beth of  York  displaced,  to  receive  the  unwieldy  coffin. 
But  the  entrance  was  effected,  and  with  his  great- 
grandparents  the  Scottish  King  reposes  as  in  a  patri- 
archal sepulchre.1  His  funeral  sermon  was  preached 
by  Dean  Williams,  who,  with  an  ingenuity  worthy  of 
James  himself,  compared  the  dead  King  in  eight  par- 
ticulars to  Solomon.  His  hearse  was  of  unusual  splen- 
dour, a  masterpiece,  as  it  was  thought,  of  Inigo  Jones.2 
A  scheme  for  a  monument  in  the  classical  style  was 
devised  but  never  executed.3 

Charles    I.'s   two  infant  children  were    the    first   to 
follow.     Theirs  were  the  first  of  that  vast  crowd  of 
small  coffins  that  thronged  their  grandmother's  P].illf,e 
vault.     One  was  his  eldest-born,  Charles,  over  £uriedSMay 
\vhos3  short  life  the  Roman  Catholic  priests  Jvnnefdied 
of  his  mother  and  the  Anglican  chaplains  of  1 
the  father  fought  for  the  privilege  of  baptizing  him.4 
The  other  was  the  Princess  Anne,  who,  on  her  deathbed 
at  four  years  old,  'was  not  able  to  say  her  long  prayer 
(meaning  the  Lord's  Prayer),  but  said  she  would  say  her 
short  one,  — "  Lighten  mine  eyes,  Lord,  lest  I  sleep  the 
sleep  of  death,"  and  so  the  little5  lamb  gave  up  the  ghost.' 

1  Sec  Appendix.  2  See  note  at  end  of  Chapter  IV. 

3  Walpole's  Aiifrtloles,  "2-2'.\.  4   Fuller's   \Vnrlhii-x,  \.  490. 

5  Fuller's   Worthies,  ii.  108;  Saudiord,  p.  COS;  Fisher,  p.  288. 


220  THE   ROYAL  TOMBS. 

Two  years  after  the  death  of  this  '  little  innocent,' 
the  lioyal  Abbey  passed  into  the  hands  of  the  Common- 
THE  wealth  and  the  Protector.  The  changes  of  its 

COMMON- 
WEALTH       constitution  will  appear  as  we  proceed.     l>ut 

AN  I)   i/KO- 

TKCTORATE.  its  outward  fabric  was  hardly  injured.  The 
lioyal  Monuments,  which  cruelly  suffered  under  Henry 
VIII.,  received,  so  far  as  we  know,  no  harm  l  under 
Cromwell ;  and  the  Abbey,  so  far  from  losing  its  attrac- 
tions, drew  into  it  not  only,  as  we  shall  see,2  the  lesser 
magnates  of  the  Commonwealth,  but  also  the  Protector 
himself.  Nothing  shows  more  completely  how  entirely 
he  regarded  himself  as  the  founder  of  a  royal  dynasty 
cromweii's  than  n^s  determination  that  he  and  his  whole 
family  should  lie  amongst  the  Kings  of  Eng- 
land. Already  at  the  time  of  Essex's  funeral,  in  1646, 
the  public  mind  was  prepared  for  his  burial  in  Henry 
VII.'s  Chapel, '  with  the  immortal  turf  of  Xaseby  under 
jane  Dis-  his  head.' 3  Three  members  of  his  family 
iGicT' d"  were  interred  there  before  his  death  —  his  sis- 
cn^rweii,  tor  Jane,4  who  married  General  Disbrowe  ;  his 
i8?'iG54?'  venerable  mother,  Elizabeth  Stuart,  through 
Elizabeth  whom  his  descent  was  traced  to  the  brother  of 
ciiertMig.  c.  the  founder  of  the  Stuarts  ;  and  Elizabeth 
I'o.'iuos. "''  Claypole,  his  favourite  daughter.5 

OLIVER  ,  . 

CROMWELL,        '  At  three  o  clock  in  the  afternoon     01  the 

died  Sept.  3, 

less.  3rd   or   September,    '  a   day  of  triumph  and 

1  Hart  speaks  of  injuries  to  the  Confessor's  Shrine  ;  but  these  must 
have  been  chiefly  confined  to  the  altar  at  its  west  end.  (See  Chapter 
VI.)  2  See  Chapters  IV.  and  VI. 

3  Vines's  Sermon  on  E.txp.r's  Fiuiend.     See  Chapter  IV. 

4  Nichols's  Col.  TOIL  viii.  153.     Amongst  the  family  must  be  reck- 
oned '  Anne  Fleetwood,'  mentioned  in  the  warrant  for  disinterment  (see 
Appendix),  who  may  be  a  daughter  of  the  General  Fleetwood,  and 
granddaughter  of  Cromwell. 

5  She  died  at  Hampton  Court  August  0,  and  was  laid  in  state  in  the 
Painted  Chamber,  and  theuce  was  buried  on  August  10  in  a  vault 


THE   COMMONWEALTH.  221 

thanksgivings  for  the  memorable  victories  of  Dunbar 
and  Worcester,  his  most  serene  and  renowned  high- 
ness Oliver  Lord  Protector  was  taken  to  his  rest.'  l 
The  arrangements  of  the  funeral  were  left  to  Mr.  Kin- 
nersley,  Master  of  the  Wardrobe,  who,  'being  suspected 
to  be  inclined  to  Popery,  recommended  the  solemnities 
used  at  the  like  occasion  for  Philip  the  Second,  who  had 
been  represented  to  be  in  Purgatory  for  about  two 
months.  In  the  like  manner  was  the  body  of  this 
great  reformer  laid  in  Somerset  House,  the  apartment 
hung  with  black,  the  daylight  excluded,  and  no  other 
but  that  of  wax  tapers  to  be  seen.  This  scene  of 
Purgatory  continued  till  the  1st  of  Xovember,  which 
being  the  day  preceding  that  commonly  called  "  All 
Souls,"  he  was  removed  into  the  great  hall  of  the  said 
House,  and  represented  in  effigy  standing  on  a  bed  of 
crimson  velvet,  covered  with  a  gown  of  the  like  col- 
oured velvet,  a  sceptre  in  his  hand,  and  a  crown  on  his 
head.  .  .  .  Four  or  five  hundred  candles  set  in  flat 
shining  candlesticks,  so  placed  round  near  the  roof  of 
the  Hall,  that  the  light  they  gave  seemed  like  the  rays 
of  the  sun,  by  all  which  he  was  represented  to  be  in  a 
state  of  glory.'  2  The  profusion  of  the  ceremony,  it  is 

made  on  purpose.  Her  aunt,  the  wife  of  Dr.  Wilkins,  afterwards 
Bishop  of  Chester,  was  chief  mourner.  (Mercurius  Puliticns.)  She  is 
the  '  Betty  '  of  Oliver's  earlier  letters,  'who  belongs  to  the  sect  rather 
of  seekers  than  of  finders.  Happy  are  they  who  find — most  happy 
are  they  who  seek  ! '  (Carlylc's  Cromwell,  \.  29f>.)  See  Appendix. 

1  Commonwealth  Mercury,  Sept.  2-9,  1658. 

2  Ludlow,  pp.  259,  200.     I  cannot  find  that  Philip  II. 's  funeral  wa.s 
so  condurte:!.     In  fact,  the  Protector's  corpse  was  removed  from  White- 
hall to  Somerset  House  on  Sept.  20,  and  the  state  show  began  on  <  >ct. 
18.     (Commonwealth  Mercury,  Nov.  18-25,  1058.)     The  expenses  were 
paid  by  Parliament  to  Hicbard  Cromwell.    The  Royalist  interpretation 
was  that  it  was  designed  to  bring  Richard   in  debt,  and  so  ruin   him, 
which   in  effect  it  did.     The  sum  expended  was  .£60,000.  more  by  one- 
half  than  ever  was  used  for  royal  funerals.     (Heath's  Chron.,  p  411; 


222  THE    ROYAL  TOMBS. 

said,  so  far  provoked  the  people  that  they  threw  dirt, 
in  the  night,  on  his  escutcheon,  placed  over  the  great 
gate. 

At  the  east  end  of  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel,  a  vault  had 

been  prepared,  which  many  years  afterwards  was  still 

called  '  Oliver's,'  or  '  Oliver  Cromwell's  vault.' 1 

Burial  of 

OLIVER        Its   massive   walls,  abutting  immediately  on 

CROMWELL, 

sept.  ^6;  the  royal  vault  of  Henry  VII.,  are  the  only 
NOV.™!*,  addition  to  the  structure  of  the  Abbey  dating 
from  the  Commonwealth.  Here  '  the  last 
ceremony  of  honour  was  paid  to  the  memory  of  him,  to 
whom  (so  thought  his  adherents 2)  posterity  will  pay 
(when  envy  is  laid  asleep  by  time)  more  honour  than 
they  were  able  to  express.'  Two  Royalists  who  stood 
by,  and  saw  the  procession  pass,  have  also  recorded 
their  feelings.3  '  It  was,'  says  Cowley,  '  the  funeral  day 
of  the  man  late  who  made  himself  to  be  called  Pro- 
tector. ...  I  found  there  had  been  much  more  cost 
bestowed  than  either  the  dead  man,  or  even  death 
itself,  could  deserve.  There  was  a  mighty  train  of 
black  assistants ;  the  hearse  was  magnificent,  the  idol 
crowned  ;  and  (not  to  mention  all  other  ceremonies 
which  are  practised  at  royal  interments,  and  therefore 
could  be  by  no  means  omitted  here)  the  vast  multitude 
of  spectators  made  up,  as  it  uses  to  do,  no  small  part  of 
the  spectacle  itself.  But  yet,  I  know  not  how,  the 
whole  was  so  managed,  that  methought  it  somewhat 
represented  the  life  of  him  for  whom  it  was  made  ; 
much  noise,  much  tumult,  much  expense,  much  rnag- 

Winstanley's  Worthies,  p.  605 ;  Noble's  Cromirell,  Appendix  B.)  The 
hearse  was  of  the  same  form  as,  only  more  stately  than,  that  of  James 
I.  (Heath's  Ctiron.,  p.  413.) 

1  Register,  May  25,  1691  ;  August  29,  1701. 

2  Commonwealth  Mercury,  Nov.  23,  1658. 

3  For  the  like  feelings  inside  the  Abbey,  see  Chapter  VI. 


THE  COMMONWEALTH.  223 

nificence,  much  vain  glory  :  briefly,  a  great  show  and 
yet,  after  all  this,  but  an  ill  sight.'  'It  was,'  says 
Evelyn,  '  the  joyfullest  funeral  that  I  ever  saw,  for  there 
were  none  that  cried  but  dogs,  which  the  soldiers  hooted 
away  with  as  barbarous  noise,  drinking  and  taking  to- 
bacco in  the  streets  as  they  went.'  It  is  said  that  the 
actual  interment,  from  the  state  of  the  corpse,  had 
taken  place  two  months  before  in  private ; 1  and  this 
mystery  probably  fostered  the  fables  which,  according 
to  the  fancies  of  the  narrators,  described  the  body  as 
thrown  into  the  Thames,2  or  laid  in  the  field  of  Naseby,3 
or  in  the  coffin  of  Charles  I.  at  Windsor,4  or  in  the 
vault  of  the  Claypoles  in  the  parish  church  of  North- 
ampton,5 or  '  carried  away  in  the  tempest  the  night 
before.' G 

The  fact,  however,  of  his  interment  at  Westminster 
is  proved  beyond  doubt  by  the  savage  ceremonial  which 
followed  the  Restoration.     Cromwell,  Ireton,  Disillter. 
and  Bradshaw  were  dug  up  on  the  eve  of  the  ero!mveirs 
30th  of  January,  1661  ;  and  on  the  following  ~^ 
day   dragged  to  Tyburn,  hanged   (with  their  }{ 
faces   turned    towards    Whitehall),7    decapitated,    and 
buried  under  the    gallows.8     The   plate  found   on  the 
breast  of  the  corpse,  with  the  inscription,  passed  into  the 
possession  of  the  sergeant  who  took  up  the  body,  from 

1  E/cnchiis  mortnonim,  pt.  ii.  p.  2.'51. 

2  Oldniixon's  Stuarts,  i.  42(1. 

3  Barkstead's  Complete  History,  iii.  228;  Diotj.  Brit.  iii.  1573. 

4  Pepys's  Diary,  Oct.  14,  1CG4. 

5  This  tradition  is  based  on  two  gravestones  over  the  Claypole  vanlt 
at  Northampton,  one  with   the  letters   K.  (' .,  supposed  to  lie    Kli/.aheth 
C'laypolo ;    one  without  inscription,  supposed   to   lie   her   father.     It   is 
disproved  hv  the  discovery  of  her  grave  in  the  Abbey.    (See  Appendix.) 

0  Heath's  F/f  i(/cl  I  a  HI,  p.  187. 

7  Pepys'  Ditiri/,  Jan.  :iO,  1060-1  ;   Heath's  Ha<jtUum,  p    102. 

6  I.e.  near Connaught  Square- 


224  THE   ROYAL  TOMBS 

whom  it  descended,  through  his  daughter,  Mrs.  Giffard, 
into  the  hands  of  the  Hobarts,  and  from  them  to  the  pre- 
sent Marquis  of  liipon.1  The  head  was  planted  on  the 
top  of  Westminster  Hall,  on  one  side,  as  Ireton's  on 
the  other  side,  of  Bradshaw's,  which  was  set  up  in  the 
centre,2  as  over  the  place  in  which  he  had  passed  judg- 
ment, '  to  be  the  becoming  spectacle  of  his  treason, 
where,  on  that  pinnacle  and  legal  advancement,  it  is  fit 
to  leave  this  ambitious  wretch.'  3 

No  mark  was  left  to  indicate  the  spot  where  Oliver, 
with  his  kindred,  lay  beneath  his  stately  hearse.  Nor 
yet  where  his  favourite  daughter  still  continued  to 
repose,  in  her  separate  grave.4 

With  the  Restoration  the  burials  of  the  legitimate 
Princes  recommenced,  in  a  gloom  —  it  may  be  added, 
THE  RES-  a  privacy  —  singularly  contrasting  with  the 

TORATION.  .  .  i-ll 

intended       ioyous   solemnity  of   the  return.     Charles  I. 

tomb  of  J 

Charles  i.  himself,  who  had  been  buried  at  Windsor,  was 
to  have  been  transported  to  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel  at 
Westminster,  and  reinterred,  under  a  splendid  tomb, 
to  be  executed  by  Wren5  '  And  many  good  people 
thought  this  so  necessary,  that  they  were  much  troubled 
that  it  wao  not  done.'  The  '  reasons  given  were  not 
liked,'  —  the  apprehension  of  a  disturbance,  the  length 
of  time  that  had  passed,  but  chiefly  the  difficulty  of 
finding  the  grave.  Since  the  discovery  of  the  body  at 
Windsor,  in  1813,  exactly  where  it  was  said  to  have 
been  interred,  we  know  that  this  reason  was  fictitious, 

1  Barkstead,  iii.  229  ;  Noble's  Crommll ;  and  Gent.  Jfag.,  May,  18G7. 

2  I'epys's  Diary,  Jaii.  5,  1661-2.  —  They  seem  then  to  have  been 
inside  the  Hall. 

3  Heath's  F/ar)f;llii>n,p.  192.  —  The  traditions  of  the  fate  of  Crom- 
well's skull  are  too  intricate  to  be  here  described. 

4  See  Chapter  IV. 

5  The  plan  is  in  All  Souls'  College  Library. 


OF  THE   STUARTS.  225 

and  we  can  hardly  avoid  the  conclusion  that  the  King 
had  appropriated  to  himself  the  money  (£70,000) 
granted  for  this  purpose.  The  Abbey,  no  doubt,  was 
fortunate  to  escape  the  intrusion  of  what  would  have 
been,  architecturally,  the  only  thoroughly  incongruous 
of  all  the  regal  monuments.1 

The  other  members  of  the  House  of  Stuart  followed 
fast  even  amidst  the  rejoicings  of  the  Eestoration,  to 
the  royal  sepulchre,  and  were  all  laid  in  the  vault  of 
their  ancestress  Mary.     First  came  Henry  of  Henry 
Oatlands,  Duke  of  Gloucester,  the  child  who  Gloucester, 
said  he  would  be  torn  in  pieces  before  he  should  13,  buried 

Sei>t   *^1 

be  made  King  in  his  elder  brother's  place.    He  iwjo. 
died  of  the  small-pox,2  at  Whitehall,  '  the  mirth  and 
entertainments    of    that   time    had    raised    his    blood 
so  high.' 3     Nothing  ever  affected  his  heartless  royal 
brother    so    deeply.4     Next    came    Mary    of  M.,rvof 
Orange,  mother  of  William  III.,  laid,  by  her  °™^e'Dec. 
own  desire,  close  to  the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  20> 1(jeo- 
'  honourably  though  privately  buried  in  Henry  VII. 's 
Chapel.'  5    She  had  visited  England '  to  congratulate  the 
happiness  of  her  brother's  miraculous  restora-  Elizabeth 
tion.'6    And  within  the  next  year,  'after  all  her  buriedFeb^ 
sorrows  and  afflictions,'  Elizabeth  Queen  of  Bo-  Prince 
hernia,7  eldest  daughter  of  James  I.,  and  mother  NOV.  25,  u 

e     i         T-II  •  T     i  T     •  l>urie<l  Dec. 

ot  the  Electress  Sophia,  who  died  at  Leicester  6,  los.'. 

1  Clarendon's  Life,  ii.  15;  Ifixtnri/,  vol.  iii.  pt.  i.  p.  ."39.3;  Wood's  Atli. 
Ox.  ii.  703  ;  Sir  Henry  Halford's  Kmtni/s,  pp.  157-192. 
-  Burnet's  Otrn  Time,  i.  172,  202. 

3  I'epys's  Diary,  Sept.  5,  1,3,  15,  17,  and  21  (1660). 

4  Fuller's   Worthies,  ii.  204. 

5  Ashinole  apparently  was  present.     (Green's  Princesses,  vi.  .3.31.) 
Dean   Earles  preached  on   Luke  ii.  12-14  on  Christinas  Day.     He  al 
hided  to  the  pulilic  sorrow.     (Evelyn,  ii.  101.) 

6  Fuller's  Worthies,  ii.  117.  7  Green's  Princesses,  vi.  84. 
VOL.  i.  — 15 


226  THE   ROYAL  TOMBS 

House.  '  The  night  of  her  burial  fell  such  a  storm  of 
hail,  thunder,  and  lightning,  as  was  never  seen  the 
like.' 1  Her  son,  Prince  Rupert,  who  had  usually  been 
brought  out  as  chief  mourner  to  all  the  lesser  royal 
funerals,  followed  in  1682,2  dying  in  embarrassed  cir- 
cumstances, and  buried  without  the  usual  pomp,  close 
to  the  coffin  of  his  mother. 

Apart  from  these,  but  within  the  same  august 
Chapel,  were  laid  child  after  child  of  the  illegitimate 
Eari  of  progeny  of  Charles  II.  Charles  Earl  of  Don- 
Fe"L'ioter'  caster,3  son  of  the  Duke  of  Monmouth  and 
Duke4of  °f  the  heiress  of  the  House  of  Buccleuch ; 
Cleveland,  Charles  Fitzroy,  Duke  of  Cleveland  and  South- 
Eari'uf  amp  ton  ;  Charles  Fitz-  Charles,  Earl  of  Ply- 
birtedJan.  mouth4  (transported  here  from  Tangiers),  lie 

IS    IfiSO— 81 

in  the  vault  which  had  been  built  for  Crom- 
n.,Adiec?  well.5  Charles  himself,  after  that  last  scene 
buriW  Feb.  of  his  life,  wliich  none  can  repeat  after  M a- 

caulay,  was  'very  obscurely  buried  at  night, 
without  any  manner  of  pomp,  and  soon  forgotten,  after 
all  his  vanity.'  All  the  great  officers  broke  '  their 
staves  over  the  grave  according  to  form.'6  A  new 
vault  had  been  made 7  immediately  after  his  death,  at 
the  east  end  of  the  South  Aisle,  which,  from  that  time 
till  it  was  superseded,  as  we  shall  see,  by  the  Hanove- 

1  Evelyn,  ii.  189. 

2  Crull,  p.  119.     (Register.)     MS.  Heralds'  College. 

3  Register. 

4  Of  the  other  natural  sons  of  Charles  II.,  the  Duke  of  St.  Albans 
Duke  of  St.    w:is  I'uried  in  St.  Andrew's  Chapel,  attracted  thither  by 
Albans.          hjs  wife,  Diana   de    Ye  re  (Register,   1726  ;    see   Chapter 

Duke  of         iv.);  and  the  Duke  of  Richmond  iu  the  Lennox  vault. 
Richmond.     /T1    '  . 
(Ibid.) 

6  Crull,  p.  111. 

6  Evelyn's  Diary,  iii.  1.38;  Register. 

7  Feb.  8,  Heralds'  College. 


OF  THE   STUARTS.  227 

rian  dynasty,  was  known  as  '  the  Eoyal  Vault.' 1  Thus 
reposes2  one  of  the  most  popular  and  the  least  deserv- 
ing of  monarchs,  over  whose  unmarked  grave  Roches- 
ter's words  rise  to  our  minds  :  — 

Here  lies  our  sovereign  lord  the  King, 

Whose  word  no  man  relies  on ; 
Who  never  said  a  foolish  thing, 

And  never  did  a  wise  one. 

In  the  same  narrow  vault,  equally  unmarked  by  any 
praise  or  blame,  and  buried  with  a  plainness  arising 
either  from  the  indifference  natural   on  the  WlLLIAM 
accession  of  a  rival  House,  or  from  the  sim-  Man*1!? 
plicity  of  his  own  character,3  reposes  one  of  Ap"uU 
the  least  popular,  but  by  his  public  acts,  one  1<u""3' 
of   the    most    deserving   of    monarchs  —  William    III. 
His  grave  endeared  the  Abbey  to  the  Nonconformist 

poet : 4  — 

Preserve,  O  venerable  pile, 

Inviolate  thy  sacred  trust, 
To  thy  cold  arms  the  British  Isle 
Weeping  commits  her  richest  dust. 

'  The  remains  of  James  II.  had  but  a  short  time  before 
been  escorted  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening,  by  a  slender 
retinue,  to  the  Chapel  of  the  English  Benedictines  at 
Paris,  and  deposited  there  in  the  vain  hope  that,  at 

1  Archives  of  the  Lord  Chamberlain's  Office.     Communicated   by 
the  kindness  of  Mr.  Doyne  Bell. 

2  It  is  stated  in  Clarke's  Life  of  James  II.  (ii.  6)   that  the  rites  of 
the  Church  of    England  were  not  used.     The  account  preserved    in 
Heralds'  College  proves  that  they  were.      The  Scottish  Covenanters 
rejoiced  that  their  oppressor  had  been  buried  with  the  burial  of  an  ass; 
but   the    London    housemaids   all   wore    a   fragment   of    black    crape. 
(Macaulay,  i.  444.) 

3  His  coffin-plate  is  distinguished  from   all  the  others  on  the  royal 
coffins  by  the  extreme  brevity  of  the  enumeration  of  his  titles,  which 
are  given  with  the  barest  initials. 

*  Watts's  Works,  iv.  490. 


228  THE   ROYAL   TOMBS 

some   future   time,   they  would   be   laid   with   kingly 
pomp  at  Westminster,  among  the  graves  of 

James  II.,        *         r 

ieedw]pt'  tne  Plantagenets  and  Tudors.' l  The  actual 
i-arifiin.i  result  was  still  less  within  the  ken  of  the 
removal  to  mournerSj  that  over  their  ultimate  resting- 
place  in  the  church  of  St.  Germain,  a  monu- 
ment should  be  erected  to  his  memory  by  a  descend- 
ant of  the  dynasty  that  had  taken  his  throne  — '  Rcyio 
Cineri  Pietas  Rcgia?  His  first  wife,  Anne  Hyde,2 
daughter  of  Lord  Clarendon,  and  mother  of  the  two 

O 

Stuart  Queens,   lies    in  the  vault  of  Mary  Queen  of 

Scots,  beneath  the  coffin  of  Elizabeth  of  Bo- 
Anne  Hyde, 

York  Juried  hernia,  ancestress  of  the  line  which  was  to 
fen'15'  supplant  her  father's  house.3  Above  and 
children  of  around,  in  every  direction,  crushing  by  the 
and  of11'  accumulated  weight  of  their  small  coffins  the 
uukenofnne"  receptacles  of  the  illustrious  dust  beneath, 
dtaijuiy1''  lie  the  numerous  children  of  James  II.  who 

30,  buried  i  •     i     •        •     r  -A  i.c  11 

Aug.  9,         died  in  infancy  —  six 4  sons  and  five  daugh- 
ters—  and   the   eighteen    children    of   Queen 
Anne,  dying  in  infancy  or  still-born,5  ending  with  "Wil- 

1  Macaulay,  v.  295;  Clarke's  Life  of  James  II.,  ii.  599-603.     The 
remains,  which  had  been  distributed  amongst  no  less  than  three  convents 
in  Paris,  were  finally  collected  in  1814,  and  placed  in  the  parish  church 
of  St.  Germain-en-Laye,  where  the  present  monument  was  erected  by 
George  IV.  in  1826.     (Pettigrew's  Epitaphs,  pp.  258,  259.) 

2  Keepe,  pp.  106-110. 

3  The  last  interment  in  this  vault  was  that  of  the  infant  Prince 
George  William,  second  son  of  George  II.,  when  Prince  of  Wales,  who 
was  carefully  embalmed  by  Dr.  Mead,  Sir    Hans  Sloane,  and  other 
eminent  physicians,  and  placed  there  on  Feb.  16,  1717.    This  was  prob- 
ably the  occasion  when   Dart  saw  the  vault  (ii.  53).     The  child  was 
removed  to  its  mother's  side  on  her  death   in  1737,  in  George  II.'s 
vault,  where  it  now  is. 

4  Including  a  natural   son,  James  Darnley,  probably  the   son  of 
Catherine  Sedley.     See  Appendix. 

5  Durt,  ii.  52,  53.    This  was  called  sometimes  '  the  Royal,'  but  more 


OF  THE   STUARTS.  229 

liam  Duke  of  Gloucester,  the  last  hope  of  the  race  — 
thus  withered,  as  it  must  have  seemed,  by  the  doom 
of  Providence.1 

The  two  last  sovereigns  of  that  race  close  the  series 
of  the  unfortunate  dynasty  in  the  Southern  MAK\-  n., 

,  .    ,  ,   .    ,        ,         .  „       ,      .  died  Dec.  2S, 

Aisle,  over  which  the  ngure  or  their  ances-  1094. 
tress  presides  with  such  tragical  solemnity. 

The  funeral  of  Mary  was  long  remembered  as  the  saddest 
and  most  august  that  Westminster  had  ever  seen.2  "While 
the  Queen's  remains  lay  in  state  at  Whitehall,  the 

J  Her  funeral, 

neighbouring  streets  were  filled  every  day,  from  March  5, 

1694-5. 

sunrise  to  sunset,  by  crowds  which  made  all  traffic 
impossible.  The  two  Houses  with  their  maces  followed  the 
hearse  —  the  Lords  robed  in  scarlet  and  ermine,  the  Com- 
mons in  long  black  mantles.  No  preceding  Sovereign  had 
ever  been  attended  to  the  grave  by  a  Parliament  :  for,  till 
then,  the  Parliament  had  always  expired  with  the  Sovereign. 
.  .  .  The  whole  Magistracy  of  the  City  swelled  the  proces- 
sion. The  banners  of  England  and  France,  Scotland  and 
Ireland,  were  carried  by  great  nobles  before  the  corpse.  The 
pall  was  borne  by  the  chiefs  of  the  illustrious  houses  of 
Howard,  Seymour,  Grey,  and  Stanley.  On  the  gorgeous 
coffin  of  purple  and  gold  were  laid  the  crown  and  sceptre  of 
the  realm.  The  day  was  well  suited  to  such  a  ceremony. 
The  sky  was  dark  and  troubled,  and  a  few  ghastly  flakes  of 
snow  fell  on  the  black  plumes  of  the  funeral  car.  Within 
the  Abbey,  nave,  choir,  and  transept  were  in  a  blaze  with 
innumerable  waxlights.  The  body  was  deposited  under  a 
sumptuous  canopy  in  the  centre  of  the  church  while  the 
Primate  (Tenison)  preached.3  The  earlier  part  of  his  dis- 
course was  deformed  by  pedantic  divisions  and  subdivisions  : 

often  '  the  Royal  Family  Vault,'  as  distinct  from  the  '  Royal  Vault'  at 
the  east  end.     (.MS.  Heralds'  College.) 

1  Register.  -  Maeattlay,  iv.  5.'i4,  535. 

3  On  Eccles.  vii.  14.     The  Dean  performed  the  service. 


230  THE   ROYAL   TOMBS 

but  towards  the  close  he  told  what  he  had  himself  seen  and 
heard  with  a  simplicity  and  earnestness  more  affecting  than 
the  most  skilful  rhetoric.  Through  the  whole  ceremony  the 
distant  booming  of  cannon  was  heard  every  minute  from 
the  batteries  of  the  Tower.1 

A  robin  redbreast,2  which  had  taken  refuge  in  the 
Abbey,  was  seen  constantly  on  her  hearse,  and  was 
QIEEN  looked  upon  with  tender  affection  for  its  seem- 

ANNE,  died       . 

AH}:.  i,         ing  love  to  the  lamented  Queen. 

buried  Aug.  .  .  11-11 

24,  1714.  Anne  was   buried  in  the  vault  beside  her 

Prince 

George  of      sister  Mary  and  her  husband  Prince  George 

Denmark, 

died  Oct.  2s,  of  Denmark.      Her  unwieldy  frame  filled  a 

buried  Nov. 

13,  1708.        coffin  larer  even  than  that  of  her     iantic 


spouse.3  An  inquisitive  antiquary  went  to  see  the 
vault  before  it  was  bricked  up.4  It  wras  full  from  side 
to  side,  and  was  then  closed,  amidst  the  indignant 
lamentations  of  the  adherents  of  the  extinct  dynasty  : 

Where  Anna  rests,  with  kindred  ashes  laid, 

What  funeral  honours  grace  her  injur'd  shade? 

A  few  faint  tapers  glimmer'd  through  the  night, 

And  scanty  sable  shock'd  the  loyal  sight. 

Though  millions  wail'd  her,  none  compos'd  her  train,  — 

Compell'd  to  grieve,  forbidden  to  complain.5 

It  was  not  to  be  expected  that  George  I.,  as  much  a 
foreigner  in  England  as  had  been  the  first  Norman 
Princes  who  lie  at  Caen  and  Fontevrault,  should  be 
buried  elsewhere  than  amongst  his  ancestors  at  Han- 
over. But  George  II.  and  his  Queen  Caroline  are  again 

1  Macaulay's  account  is  taken  from  the  Heralds'  College. 

2  Sketch  in  the  Library  of  the  Society  of  Antiquaries. 

3  Strickland,  xii.  459. 

4  Thoresby's  Diary,  ii.  252.  —  The  five  coffins  are  described  in  the 
Register  for  August  24,  1714.     The  names  on  the  five  Royal  graves 
were  first  inscribed  in  1866. 

5  Samuel  Wesley,  in  Atterbury's  Letters,  ii.  426. 


OF  THE   HOUSE  OF  HANOVER.  281 

genuine   personages    of   English    History   and   of   the 
English  Abbey.     In  the  centre  of  the  Chapel  THE 
of  Henry  VII,  which  under  the  auspices  of  HAHOVKB. 
his  great  minister  had  been  animated  with  a  George  i., 
new  life  by  the  banners  of   the   remodelled  11.17-27,' 

buried  at 

Order    of    the    Bath, 1    were    deposited    the  Hanover. 
royal  pair.     Queen  Caroline,  the  most  discriminating 
patroness  of  learning  and  philosophy  that  down  to  that 
time  had  ever  graced  the  throne  of  England  —  endeared 
to  every  reader  of  the  master-works  of  his-  yueeu 
torical  fiction  by  her  appearance  in  the  '  Heart  Anspach, 

1  r  died  Xov.20, 

of  Midlothian'  —  was  buried  in  that  newly-  imried 

J        Dee.  17, 

opened  vault,2  with  the  sublime  music,  then  1737. 
first  composed,  of  Handel's  Anthem — 'When  the  ear 
heard  her,  then  it  blessed  her ;  and  when  the  eye  saw 
her,  it  gave  witness  to  her.  How  are  the  mighty 
fallen !  She  that  was  great  among  the  nations,  and 
Princess  among  the  provinces.'3  Her  husband,  as  a 
last  proof  of  his  attachment,  gave  directions  that  his 
remains  and  those  of  his  wife  should  be  mingled  to- 
gether. Accordingly,  the  two  coffins  were  placed  in  a 
large  black  marble  sarcophagus  inscribed  with  their 
joint  names,  with  their  sceptres  crossed,  and  one  side 
of  each  of  the  wooden  coverings  withdrawn.  In  that 
vast  tomb  they  still  repose,  and  the  two  planks  still 
lean  against  the  eastern  wall.4 

More  than  twenty  years  passed  before  the  King  fol- 
lowed.   It  is  probably  the  last  direct  royal  reminiscence 

1  See  Chapter  II. 

2  There  was  much  confusion  at  the  funeral.    (Chapter  Book,  17.37.) 
The  Psalms  were  not  sung,  and  the  Lesson  was  omitted.     (Precentor's 
Book,    17.37.) 

3  Cent.  Ma;/.,  17.37,  pp.  763-7. 

4  So  they  were  seen  at  au  accidental  opening  of  the  vault  in  1871. 


232  THE   ROYAL  TOMBS 

of    Edward   the    Confessor,   that    in    the   extravagant 
GEOH<;E  ii.,    eulogies    published    on    George    IL's    death. 

died  Oct.  25, 

1-60.  his   devotion    was   compared    to   that   of   St. 

Edward.1     His  funeral  must  be  left  to  Horace  Walpole 
to  describe  :  — 

Do  you  know,  I  had  the  curiosity  to  go  to  the  burying 

t'other  night ;   I   had   never   seen  a  royal    funeral ;    nay,    1 

walked  as  a  rag  of  quality,  which  I  found  would 

His  funeral, 

NOV.  11,  be,  and  so  it  was,  the  easiest  way  ot  seeing  it.  It 
is  absolutely  a  noble  sight.  The  Prince's  Cham- 
ber, hung  with  purple,  and  a  quantity  of  silver  lamps,  the 
coffin  under  a  canopy  of  purple  velvet,  and  six  vast  chande- 
liers of  silver  on  high  stands,  had  a  very  good  effect.  The 
Ambassador  from  Tripoli  and  his  son  were  carried  to  see  that 
chamber.  The  procession,  through  a  line  of  foot-guards, 
every  seventh  man  bearing  a  torch,  the  horse-guards  lining 
the  outside,  their  officers  with  drawn  sabres  and  crape  sashes 
on  horseback,  the  drums  muffled,  the  tifes,  bells  tolling,  and 
minute-guns  —  all  this  was  very  solemn.  But  the  charm  was 
the  entrance  of  the  Abbey,  where  we  were  received  by  the 
Dean  and  Chapter  in  rich  robes,  the  choir  and  almsmen  bear- 
ing torches  ;  the  whole  Abbey  so  illuminated,  that  one  saw 
it  to  greater  advantage  than  by  day ;  the  tombs,  long  aisles, 
and  fretted  roof,  all  appearing  distinctly,  and  with  the  happi- 
est chiaroscuro.  There  wanted  nothing  but  incense,  and 
little  chapels  here  and  there,  with  priests  saying  mass  for  the 
repose  of  the  defunct ;  yet  one  could  not  complain  of  its  not 
being  Catholic  enough.  I  had  been  in  dread  of  being  coupled 
with  some  boy  of  ten  years  old  ;  but  the  heralds  were  not 
very  accurate,  and  I  walked  with  George  Grenville,  taller  and 

1  Smollett,  vi.  372.  —  For  the  details,  see  Gent.  May.  (1760),  p.  5.39. 
The  heart  had  been  previously  deposited  in  the  vault  (on  Sunday,  Oc- 
tober 9)  by  the  Lord  Chamberlain.  The  procession  entered  bv  the 
north  door.  The  service  was  read  by  the  Dean  of  Westminster  (Bishop 
Pearce),  though  the  two  Archbishops  were  present. 


OF   THE   HOUSE   OF  HANOVER.  233 

older,  to  keep  me  in  countenance.  When  we  came  to  the 
Chapel  of  Henry  VII.,  all  solemnity  and  decorum  ceased ;  no 
order  was  observed,  people  sat  or  stood  where  they  could  or 
would  ;  the  yeomen  of  the  guard  were  crying  out  for  help, 
oppressed  by  the  immense  weight  of  the  coffin  ;  the  Bishop 
read  sadly,  and  blundered  in  the  prayers  ;  the  fine  chapter, 
'  Man  that  is  born  of  a  woman,'  was  chaunted,  not  read  ;  and 
the  anthem,  besides  being  immeasurably  tedious,  would  have 
served  as  well  for  a  nuptial.  The  real  serious  part  was  the 
figure  of  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  heightened  by  a  thousand 
melancholy  circumstances.  He  had  a  dark-brown  adonis,  and 
a  cloak  of  black  cloth,  with  a  train  of  five  yards.  Attending 
the  funeral  of  a  father  could  not  be  pleasant :  his  leg 
extremely  bad,  yet  forced  to  stand  upon  it  near  two  hours; 
his  face  bloated  and  distorted  with  his  late  paralytic  stroke, 
which  has  affected  too  one  of  his  eyes,  and  placed  over  the 
mouth  of  the  vault,  in  which,  in  all  probability,  he  must 
himself  so  soon  descend  ;  think  how  unpleasant  a  situation ! 
He  bore  it  all  with  a  firm  and  unaffected  countenance.  This 
grave  scene  was  fully  contrasted  by  the  burlesque  Duke  of 
Newcastle.  He  fell  into  a  fit  of  crying  the  moment  he  came 
into  the  chapel,  and  flung  himself  back  in  a  stall,  the  Arch- 
bishop hovering  over  him  with  a  smelling-bottle ;  but  in  two 
minutes  his  curiosity  got  the  better  of  his  hypocrisy,  and  he 
ran  about  the  chapel  with  his  glass  to  spy  who  was  or  was 
not  there  —  spying  with  one  hand,  and  mopping  his  eyes 
with  the  other.  Then  returned  the  fear  of  catching  cold  ;  and 
the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  who  was  sinking  with  heat,  felt 
himself  weighed  down,  and  turning  round,  found  it  was  the 
Duke  of  Newcastle  standing  upon  his  train,  to  avoid  the  chill 
of  the  marble.  It  was  very  theatric  to  look  down  into  the 
vault,  where  the  coffin  lay,  attended  by  mourners  with  lights. 
Clavering,  the  groom  of  the  bedchamber,  refused  to  sit  up 
with  the  body,  and  was  dismissed  by  the  King's  order.1 

'ri  Letters,  iv.  361-362. 


234  THE   ROYAL  TOMBS 

Into  that  vault,  as  Walpole  anticipated,  soon  de- 
scended the  sad  figure  of  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  the 
wniiam  last  apparition  of  the  Prince  who,  as  a  little 
Duke  of  '  child  of  four  years  old,  had  received  in  that 

Cumberland,  ii-i-ii  -11  i        i 

•lied  Oct.  si,  same  chapel  his    knightly  sword,1  and  who 

buried  Nov.  °        J 

10. 1765.        grew  up  to  be  the  ablest  and  the  fiercest  of 

Family  of 

George  1 1.  the  family.  Frederick  Prince  of  Wales  was 
already  there.  His  wife  Augusta  followed,  after  seeing 
Duke  of  her  son,  George  III.,  mount  the  throne.  His 

York,  .lied 

sept.  17.        sisters,  Caroline  and  Amelia/  and  his  younger 

buried  Nov. 

3,  1767.  children,  are  all  in  the  same  vault ;  ending 
with  Edward  Augustus,  the  Albino  Duke  of  York,  who 
Duke  of  was  transported  hither  in  state  from  Monaco, 
d'ied'sq!t."d'  where  he  died,  and  (last  of  the  family)  Henry 
sept'lsf  Frederick,  Duke  of  Cumberland,  the  subject 
of  so  much  real  scandal  and  fictitious  romance. 
No  monument  commemorates  any  of  these  Princes,  and 
till  within  the  last  few  years  their  graves  were  un- 
marked by  any  name.3 

It  was  the  close  of  George  Ill.'s  reign  that  witnessed 
the  final  separation  of  the  royal  interments  from  West- 
minster Abbey.  His  two  youngest  children,  Alfred 
and  Octavius,  had  been  laid  on  each  side  of  George  II. 
and  Queen  Caroline  ;  but  their  remains  were  removed 
George  in/s  to  the  vault  constructed  by  their  father  under 

vault  at  J 

Windsor.  the  Wolsey  Chapel  at  Windsor,  where  he  and 
his  numerous  progeny  were  with  a  few  exceptions  in- 
terred ;  thus,  by  a  singular  rebound  of  feeling,  restoring 

1  See  Chapter  II. 

-  A  touching  account  of  her  funeral  is  given  by  Carter.  (Gent. 
Mag.  Ixix.  pt.  ii.  p.  942.)  1'rince  George  William,  who  died  in  1718, 
was  transferred  thither  from  the  Stuart  vault. 

3  The  names  were  added  (from  the  engraving  of  the  vault  in  Neale) 
in  1866.  George  IV.,  it  is  said,  had  the  intention  of  erecting  a  monu- 
ment to  Frederick  Prince  of  Wales  in  St.  Paul's,  '  Westminster  beimf 


OF  THE   HOUSE   OF   HANOVER.  235 

to  that  Chapel  the  honour  of  royal  sepulture,  which 
had  been  originally  intended  for  it  by  its  founder, 
Henry  VII.  It  is  an  almost  exact  copy  of  his  grand- 
father's vault  at  Westminster  —  he  himself  and  Queen 
Charlotte  reposing  at  the  east  end,  and  the  Princes  and 
Princesses  in  chambers  on  each  side,  leaving  the  cen- 
tral aisle  for  sovereigns.1  And,  though  another  mauso- 
leum has  arisen  within  the  bounds  of  the  royal  domain 
of  Windsor,  the  renewed  splendour  of  the  Chapel 
which  contains  the  last  remains  of  the  House  of  Han- 
over well  continues  the  transition  to  '  the  Father  of  our 
Kings  to  be,'  —  the  coming  dynasty  of  Saxe-Coburg. 

This  is  the  close  of  the  history  of  the  Abbey  in  its 
connection  with  the  tombs  of  the  Kings  and  Queens  of 
England.  One  more  royal  tomb,  however,  has  been 
added,  which,  though  not  of  English  lineage,  combines 
so  much  of  European  interest,  so  much  of  the  generosity 


overcrowded.'  Letter  of  W.  iu  the  Times,  April  4,  1832.  A  contem- 
porary epitaph,  somewhat  irreverently  composed  on  these  Princes, 
corresponds  to  this  neglect  of  their  graves  : 

Here  lies  Fred, 

Who  was  alive  and  is  dead  ; 

I  had  much  rather 

Had  it  been  his  father  [George  II.]  : 

Had  it  been  his  brother  [the  Duke  of  Cumberland] 

Much  better  than  another  ; 

Had  it  been  his  sister  [Princess  Amelia] 

No  one  would  have  missed  her; 

Had  it  been  the  whole  generation 

So  much  better  for  the  nation  ; 

But  as  it 's  only  Fred, 

Who  was  alive  and  is  dead, 

There  's  no  more  to  be  said. 

1  The  last  removal  from  the  Abbey  was  that  of  a  stillborn  child  of 
the  King  of  Hanover,  buried  in  1817,  and  transported  to  St.  George's 
Chapel  on  the  night  of  William  IV. 's  funeral,  in  18.37.  The  King  of 
Hanover,  the  Queen  of  Wurtemberg,  the  Princess  Elizabeth  of  Hesse 
Homburg.  were  buried  in  their  own  vaults  in  (iermany;  the  Duke  of 
Sussex  and  the  Princess  Sophia  in  Kensal  (ireen,  and  the  Duchess  of 
Gloucester  in  the  south  aisle  in  Windsor. 


236  THE   ROYAL  TOMBS 

of  the  English  Church  and  nation,  so  much  of  t\u  ^cst 
characteristics  of  the  Abbey,  as  fitly  to  terminate  the 
whole  series. 

In  the  side-chapel  on  the  south  of  Henry  VII.'s 
tomb  is  the  only  modern  monument  of  the  Abbey 
ROYAL  which  follows  the  medieval  style  of  archi- 
EXILES.  tecture,  and  which  thus  marks  the  revival  of 
the  Gothic  taste.  It  is  the  recumbent  effigy  of  Antony, 
Antony,  Duke  of  Montpeiisicr,  younger  brother  of 
Mont-0  Louis  Philippe,  King  of  the  French.  His  end 

jiensier,  died  .  ..  -i       •        -n       t        i 

May  is,  took  place  during  his  exile  in  -England,  at 
•jc,  iso7.  '  Salthill.  Dying  as  he  did  in  the  Church  of 
his  fathers,  and  attended  in  his  obsequies  by  the  solemn 
funeral  rites  of  that  Church,  he  was  received  from  the 
Roman  Catholic  chapel1  into  Westminster  Abbey,  and 
laid  there,  '  at  half-past  four  in  the  evening,'  —  first  in 
a  vault  by  the  side  of  a  member  of  the  Rochefoucault 
family,  the  Marquis  de  Montandre,  who  with  his  wife, 
the  daughter  of  Ezekiel  Spanheim,2  was  buried  beneath 
the  entrance  of  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel ;  and  then  removed 
Tin-  in-  to  a  new  vault,  opened  for  the  purpose,  on  the 
st-1-ii.tion.  south-east  corner  of  the  Chapel,  over  which 
the  tomb  was  afterwards  erected  by  Westmacott.  The 
Latin  inscription  was  written  by  the  old  Revolutionary 
general,  Dumouriez,3  then  living  in  exile  in  England, 
with  a  grace  and  accuracy  of  diction  worthy  of  the 
scholarship  for  which  the  exiled  chief  (who  had  been 

1  From  the  French  Chapel,  King  Street,  Portman  Square.      The 
body  lay  there  in  state.     High  mass  was  performed  in  the  presence  of 
the  Duke  of  Bourbon,  and  a  requiem  sung  there  afterwards.     ( Gent. 
May.,  1807,  pt.  i.  p.  584.)     The  account,  which  is  in  some  detail,  has 
mistaken  the  time,  making  it  June  6,  at  half-past  three. 

2  Appendix  to  Crull,  p.  39. 

3  This  information  I  owe  to  the  kindness  of  H.  R.  H.  the  Duke  of 
Aumale. 


OF   THE   HOUSE   OF    HANOVER.  237 

educated  at  La  Bastie)  was  renowned ;  and  it  records 
how,  after  his  many  vicissitudes,  the  amiable  Prince  at 
last  had  '  found  his  repose  in  this  asylum  of  Kings  - 
hoc  dcmum  in  Rcgum  o.sylo  req/uicscit.' 1 

He  remains  apart  from  that  most  pathetic  of  royal 
cemeteries,  the  burialplace  of  the  House  of  Orleans, 
beside  the  ancient  tower  of  Dreux.  But  the  Princes  of 
that  illustrious  race  will  not  grudge  to  Westminster 
Abbey  this  one  link,  uniting  the  glories  of  the  insular 
Protestant  sanctuary  of  England  to  the  continental 
Catholic  glories  of  France,  by  that  invisible  chain  of 
hospitality  and  charity  which  stretches  across  the 
widest  gulf  of  race,  and  time,  and  creed,  and  country; 
uniting  those  whom  all  the  efforts  of  all  the  kings  and 
all  the  ecclesiastics  who  lie  in  Westminster  or  St. 
Denys  have  not  been  able  to  part  asunder.2  In  the 

1  In  the  correspondence  on  the  subject  between  Dean  Vincent  and 
the  Government,  preserved  in  the  Receiver's  Office,  the  Dean  proposes 
some  alterations  '  unless  the  inscription  is  sacred  ;  that  is,  so  approved 
by  the  Duke  of  Orleans  that  it  may  not  be  touched.'     It  does  not  ap- 
pear whether  his  suggestions  were  accepted.     In  the  same  correspon- 
dence, Louis  Philippe,  then  Duke  of  Orleans  (through  his  secretary, 
M.  de  Brovel)  communicates  his  gratitude  to  'the  Most  Reverend  the 
Dean  '  and  the  Receiver,  for  their  '  very  safe  and  humane  care,"  and  to 
'the  venerable  prelate'  his  full  approbation  of  the  spot  chosen.     A  dif- 
ficulty was  raised  as  to  whether  any  one  not  belonging  to  the  Royal 
Family  could  be  laid  there.    The  correspondence  on  this  point  is  doubly 
curious — first,  as  showing  how  rigidly  the  limitation   of  the  title  if 
'  Royal'  to  the  elder  branch  of  the  Bourbons  was  observed  by  the  Eng- 
lish   Court;    secondly,  how  little  was,   known  of   the   many  non-regal 
interments  in   Henry  VII. 's  Chapel.     Even  the  Dean  seems  to  have 
been  ignorant  of  the  burial  of  any  person  of  inferior  rank,  except  the 
Duchess  of  Richmond  and  the  two  Dukes  of  Buckingham.     There  are, 
in  fact,  not  less  than  seventy. 

2  In  the  same  vault  us  the  Duke  of  Montpensier,  was  interred  (with 
the  burialphu-c    marked)    Louise  de  Savoy,  the  Queen  of  qu<vu 
Louis  XVIII  ,  who  died  at   Hnrtwell.      Her  remains  were   I-""'*1' •'* 

Savoy.  Nov. 

removed  to  Sardinia  on  March  5,  1811  (Burial  Register);  -jc,  isio. 


238  THE   ROYAL  TOMBS 

corresponding  Chapel  on  the  northern  side  was  to  have 
been  erected  a  corresponding  monument  to  the  un- 
fortunate heir  of  the  great  rival  dynasty  of  the  Napo- 
leons. The  universal  burst  of  sympathy  at  his  untimely 
death  in  the  South  African  war,  the  close  of  a  great 
historic  race,  the  stainless  character  and  gallant  bearing 
of  the  youth,  the  tragical  and  romantic  incident  of  the 
representative  of  the  great  Napoleon  falling  under  the 
British  flag,  the  sense  of  reparation  due  for  a  signal 
misfortune  —  all  combined  to  render  such  a  commem- 
oration singularly  in  accordance  with  the  traditions  of 
the  Abbey,  which  has  always  embraced  within  its  walls 
these  landmarks  of  human  life  and  history :  — 

Sunt  lacrymje  rerum,  et  mentem  mortalia  tangunt. 

A  majority  of  the  House  of  Commons,  however,  a 
year  after  the  monument  had  been  proposed  and  ac- 
cepted, adopted  a  resolution  declaring  it  inconsistent 
with  the  national  character  of  the  Abbey.  The  pro- 
posal to  erect  the  monument  was  in  consequence  with- 
drawn, and  by  command  of  the  Queen  it  was  placed  in 
St.  George's  Chapel  at  Windsor.  There  lias  been  but 
one  precedent  for  such  interference  with  memorials  of 
the  dead  in  the  Abbey  —  that  of  the  Parliamentarian 
magnates,  under  pressure  of  the  strong  outburst  of 
party  feeling  that  followed  the  Restoration.  Posterity 
will  judge  how  far  the  ungenerous  spirit  which  gov- 
erned the  Parliament  of  1061  survived,  in  an  altered 
form,  in  the  Parliament  of  1880. 

and  at  the  same  time  the  coffins  of  two  Spanish  ambassadors  —  one, 
that  of  Don  Pedro  Ronquillo  (see  Evelyn's  Memoirs,  iii.  41), which  had 
lain  in  the  Lennox  Chapel  since  the  time  of  William  III.  (Crull, 
p.  107),  the  other,  which  had  been  deposited  in  the  Ormond  vault, 
March  2,  1811  —  were  sent  back  to  Spain. 


by  tin 
kindly 
Orlean 


Dean  Stanley's  Tomb. 


OF  THE  HOUSE  OF  HANOVER.        230 

Close  beside  the  tomb  of  the  Duke  of  Montpensier,1 
by  the  gracious  desire  of   the  Queen,  and  with    the 
kindly  approval  of   the   gifted  chief   of   the  Lady 
Orleans  family,  have  been  laid  the  last  remains  Stanley, 

c  i  -n  i  i  -ITT  (lied  March 

or  one  whose  name  will  be  ever  dear  to  West-  i,  buried 
minster,  —  mourned  in  France  hardly  less  isVe. 
than  in  England  —  followed  to  her  grave  by  the  tears 
of  all  ranks,  from  her  Eoyal  Mistress  down  to  her 
humblest  and  poorest  neighbours,  whom  she  had  alike 
faithfully  served, —  by  the  representatives  of  the  vari- 
ous Churches,  and  of  the  science  and  literature,  both  of 
England  and  America,  whom  she  delighted  to  gather 
round  her,  —  enshrined  in  the  Abbey  which  she  had 
so  dearly  loved,  and  of  which  for  twelve  bright  years 
she  had  been  the  glory  and  the  charm. 

1  This  notice  belongs  more  properly  to  the  following  chapter,  but 
its  insertion  here  will  be  forgiven. 


[And  there,  on   Monday,  July  25,   1881,  was  laid  to  rest  her 
husband,  Arthur  Penrhyn  Stanley  (the  author  of  this  volume), 
who  had  been  Dean  of  Westminster  from  18G3  to  his 
death  in  the  deanery  on  July  18,  1881.     He  was  fol-  penrlirn 
lowed  hv  the  Prince  of  Wales,  as  representative  of  the  Stanley, died 

July  IS, 

Sovereign,  by  other  members  of  the  Royal  Family,  by  buried  July 
representatives  of  the  three  Estates  of  the  Realm,  of 
the  Cabinet  Ministers,  the  literature,  arts,  science,  and  religion  of 
the  country,  and  by  a  large  concourse  of  the  working-men  of 
AVestminster —  the  majority  mourning  for  one  who  had  been  their 
personal  friend.  The  coflin  was  covered  with  memorials  and 
expressions  of  regret  from  high  and  low  in  England,  Scotland, 
France,  Germany,  and  America,  and  from  the  members  of  the  Ar- 
menian Church.  He  rests  in  the  same  grave  with  his  beloved  wife, 
in  the  Abbey  which  he  loved  so  dearly,  which  he  cherished  as 
'  the  likeness  of  the  whole  English  Constitution,'  for  the  care  and 
illustration  of  which  he  laboured  unceasingly,  and  with  which  his 
name  will  always  be  associated.] 


THE  MONUMENTS. 

OFT  let  me  range  the  gloomy  aisles  alone, 
Sad  luxury  !  to  vulgar  minds  unknown, 
Along  the  walls  where  speaking  marbles  show 
What  worthies  form  the  hallow'd  mould  below  ; 
Proud  names,  who  once  the  reins  of  empire  held; 
In  arms  who  triumph'd  ;  or  in  arts  excelled  ; 
Chiefs  grac'd  with  scars,  and  prodigal  of  blood ; 
Stern  patriots,  who  for  sacred  freedom  stood  ; 
Just  men,  by  whom  impartial  laws  were  given  ; 
And  saints  who  taught,  and  led,  the  way  to  heaven. 

Tickell's  Lines  on  the  Death  of  Addison.     (See  p.  193  ) 

Some  would  imagine  that  all  these  monuments  were  so  many 
monuments  of  folly.  I  don't  think  so ;  what  useful  lessons  of 
morality  and  sound  philosophy  do  they  not  exhibit !  —  '  Burke's 
First  Visit  to  the  Abbey'  (Prior's  Life  of  Burke,  i.  39). 


VOL.  i.  — 16 


SPECIAL   AUTHORITIES. 

BKSIDES  the  ample  details  of  Keepe,  Crull,  Dart,  and  Neale, 
there  are  for  the  ensuing  Chapter  the  following  authorities :  — 

I.    The  earlier  Burial  Register1  of  the  Abbey,  contained  in 

one  volume  folio,  from  160G  to  170G.2 

II.    The  later  Burial  Registers,  from  1  TOG  to  the  present  day, 
are  contained — (1)  in  another  folio  volume,  and  (2) 
(from  1711)   more  fully  in  six  volumes  octavo,  more 
properly  called  the  '  Funeral  Books.' 
III.    MS.  Heralds'  College. 

1  The  first  part  of  this  is  a  compilation  of  Philip  Tynchare,  the 
Precentor  who  was  buried  '  near  the  door  of  Lord  Norm's  monument, 
May  12,  1073.' 

2  These,  as  far  as  the  year  1705,  are  published,  with  notes,  in  Nich- 
ols's CoUcctancu  Toporjraphica  ft  Geneafogica,  vol.  vii.  355-57,  viii.  1-13,  to 
which  are  added,  in  vol.  vii.  1G3-74,  the  Marriages  from  1655  to  170."), 
and  in  vol.  vii.  243-48,  the  Baptisms  from  1G05  to  1G55,  and  1GG1  to 
1702,  from  the  same  source.     But  these  transcripts  have  been  found  so 
full  of  errors,  that  a  new  nnd  corrected  version  was  absolutely  needed. 
Under  these  circumstances  the  Dean  and  Chapter  have  been  fortunate 
in  obtaining  the  valuable  aid  of  a  learned  and  laborious  antiquarian  — 
Colonel  Joseph  Lemuel  Chester,  of  the  United  States  of  America  — 
who  has  undertaken  a  complete  edition  of  the  whole  Register,  with  ref- 
erences and  annotations  wherever  necessary,  with  a  zeal  which  must  be 
as  gratifying  to  our  country  as  it  is  creditable  to  his  own. 


o 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE     MONUMENTS. 

F  all  the  characteristics  of  Westminster  Abbey, 
that  which  most  endears  it  to  the  nation,  and 
gives  most  force  to  its  name  —  which  lias,  peculiarity 
more  than  anything  else,  made  it  the  home  of  Tombs  at 
the  people  of  England,  and  the  most  vene-  minster. 
rated  fabric  of  the  English  Church  —  is  not  so  much 
its  glory  as  the  seat  of  the  coronations,  or  as  the 
sepulchre  of  the  kings ;  not  so  much  its  school,  or  its 
monastery,  or  its  chapter,  or  its  sanctuary,  as  the  fact 
that  it  is  the  resting-place  of  famous  Englishmen,  from 
every  rank  and  creed,  and  every  form  of  mind  and 
genius.  It  is  not  only  Reims  Cathedral  and  St.  Denys 
both  in  one;  but  it  is  also  what  the  Pantheon  was 
intended  to  be  to  France,  what  the  Valhalla  is  to  Ger- 
many, what  Santa  Croce  is  to  Italy.  It  is  this  aspect 
which,  more  than  any  other,  won  for  it  the  delightful 
visits  of  Addison  in  the  '  Spectator,'  of  Steele  in  the 
'  Tatler,'  of  Goldsmith  in  'The  Citizen  of  the  World,' 
of  Charles  Lamb  in  '  Essays  of  Elia,'  of  Washington 
Irving  in  the  'Sketch  l>ook.'  It  is  this  which  inspired 
the  saying  of  Nelson, '  Victory  or  Westminster  Abbey ! >x 
and  which  has  intertwined  it  with  so  many  eloquent 
passages  of  Macaulay.  It  is  this  which  gives  point  to 
the  allusions  of  recent  Noncon  form  ing  statesmen  least 
1  See  Note  at  cud  of  this  Chapter. 


244  THE   MONUMENTS. 

inclined  to  draw  illustrations  from  ecclesiastical  build- 
ings. It  is  this  which  gives  most  promise  of  vitality 
to  the  whole  institution.  Kings  are  no  longer  buried 
within  its  walls ;  even  the  splendour  of  pageants  has 
ceased  to  attract;  but  the  desire  to  be  interred  in 
Westminster  Abbey  is  still  as  strong  as  ever. 

And  yet  it  is  this  which  has  exposed  the  Abbey  to 
the  severest  criticism.  '  To  clear  away  the  monuments' 
has  become  the  ardent  wish  of  not  a  few  of  its  most 
ardent  admirers.  The  incongruity  of  their  construction, 
the  caprice  of  their  erection,  the  false  taste  or  false 
feeling  of  their  inscriptions  and  their  sculptures,  have 
provoked  the  attacks  of  each  succeeding  generation. 
It  will  be  the  object  of  this  Chapter  to  unravel  this 
conflict  of  sentiments,  to  find  the  clue  through  this 
labyrinth  of  monumental  stumbling-blocks  and  stones 
of  offence.  Although  this  branch  of  the  Abbey  be  a 
parasitical  growth,  it  has  struck  its  fibres  so  deep  that, 
if  rudely  torn  out,  both  perchance  will  come  down 
together.  If  sooner  or  later  it  must  be  pruned,  we 
must  first  well  consider  the  relation  of  the  engrafted 
mistletoe  to  the  parent  tree. 

This  peculiarity  of  Westminster  Abbey  is  of  com- 
paratively recent  origin.  No  theory  of  the  kind  existed 
when  the  Confessor  procured  its  first  privileges,  nor  yet 
when  Henry  III.  planned  the  burial-place  of  the  Plan- 
tagenets.  No  cemetery  in  the  world  had  as  yet  been 
based  on  this  principle.  The  great  men  of  Home  were 
indeed  buried  along  the  side  of  the  Appian  Way,  but 
they  had  no  exclusive  right  to  it ;  it  was  by  virtue  rather 
of  their  family  Connections  than  of  their  individual 
merit.  The  appropriation  of  the  Church  of  Ste.  Gene- 
vieve  at  Paris,  under  the  name  of  the  Pantheon,  to  the 
ashes  of  celebrated  Frenchmen,  was  almost  confined 


THE   MONUMENTS.  245 

to  the  times  of  the  Eevolutio^i  and  to  the  tombs  of 
Voltaire  and  Rousseau.  The  adaptation  of  the  Pan- 
theon at  Rome  to  the  reception  of  the  busts  of  Coill])ai.isull 
famous  Italians  dates  from  the  same  epoch,  J^"1,* 
and  it  ceased  to  be  so  employed  after  the  * 
restoration  of  Pius  VII.  The  nearest  approach  to 
Westminster  Abbey  in  this  aspect  is  the  Church  of 
Santa  Croce  at  Florence.  There,  as  here,  the  present 
destination  of  the  building  was  no  part  of  the  original 
design,  but  was  the  result  of  various  converging  causes. 
As  the  church  of  one  of  the  two  great  preaching  orders 
it  had  a  nave  large  beyond  all  proportion  to  its  choir. 
That  order  being  the  Franciscan,  bound  by  vows  of 
poverty,  the  simplicity  of  the  worship  preserved  the 
whole  space  clear  from  any  adventitious  ornaments. 
The  popularity  of  the  Franciscans,  especially  in  a  con- 
vent hallowed  by  a  visit  from  St.  Francis  himself,  drew 
to  it  not  only  the  chief  civic  festivals,  but  also  the 
numerous  families  who  gave  alms  to /the  friars,  and 
whose  connection  with  their  church  was,  for  this  reason, 
in  turn  encouraged  by  them.  In  those  graves,  piled 
with  the  standards  and  achievements  of  the  noble  fam- 
ilies of  Florence,  were  successively  interred  —  not  be- 
cause of  their  eminence,  but  as  members  or  friends  of 
those  families  —  some  of  the  most  illustrious  personages 
of  the  fifteenth  century.  Thus  it  came  to  pass,  as  if  by 
accident,  that  in  the  vault  of  the  Buonarotti  was  laid 
Michael  Angelo;  in  the  vault  of  the  Viviani  the  pre- 
ceptor of  one  of  their  house,  (Jalileo.  From  those  two 
burials  the  church  gradually  became  the  recognised 
shrine  of  Italian  genius.1 

1  I  owe  this  account  of  Santa  froce  to  tin-  kindness  of  Siunor 
IJonaini,  Keeper  of  the  Archives  at  Florence.  !See  also  T.  A.  Trollope's 
novel  of  Uiulio  Mnlutcstd,  vol.  iiL 


240  THE   MONUMENTS. 

The  growth  of  our  English  Santa  Croce,  though  dif- 
ferent, was  analogous.  It  sprang  in  the  first  instance 
Result,  of  as  a  natural  offshoot  from  the  coronations  and 
Tombs. '  interments  of  the  Kings.  Had  they  been 
buried  far  away,  in  some  conventual  or  secluded  spot, 
cr  had  the  English  nation  stood  aloof  from  the  English 
monarchy,  it  might  have  been  otherwise.  The  sepul- 
chral chapels  built  by  Henry  III.  and  Henry  A7II.  might 
have  stood  alone  in  their  glory :  no  meaner  dust  need 
ever  have  mingled  with  the  dust  of  the  Plantagenets, 
Tudors.  Stuarts,  and  Guelphs.  The  Kings  of  France  rest 
almost  alone  at  St.  Denys.  The  Kings  of  Spain,  the  Em- 
perors of  Austria,  the  Czars  of  Russia,  rest  absolutely 
alone  in  the  vaults  of  the  Escurial,  of  Vienna,  of  Mos- 
cow, and  St.  Petersburg.  But  it  has  been  the  peculiar 
privilege  of  the  Kings  of  England,  that  neither  in  life 
nor  in  deatli  have  they  been  parted  from  their  people. 
As  the  Council  of  the  nation  and  the  Courts  of  Law 
have  pressed  into  the  Palace  of  Westminster,  and  en- 
girdled the  very  Throne  itself,  so  the  ashes  of  the  great 
citizens  of  England  have  pressed  into  the  sepulchre  of 
the  Kings,  and  surrounded  them  as  with  a  guard  of 
honour,  after  their  death.  On  the  tomb  designed  for 
Maximilian  at  Innspruck,  the  Emperor's  effigy  lies  en- 
circled by  the  mailed  figures  of  ancient  chivalry  —  of 
Arthur  and  Clovis,  of  Eudolph  and  Cunegunda,  of 
Ferdinand  and  Isabella.  A  like  thought,  but  yet 
nobler,  is  that  which  is  realised  in  fact  by  the  structure 
of  Westminster  Abbey,  as  it  is  by  the  structure  of  the 
English  Constitution.  We  are  sometimes  inclined 
bitterly  to  contrast  the  placid  dignity  of  our  recumbent 
Kings,  with  Chatham  gesticulating  from  the  Northern 
Transept,  or  Pitt  from  the  western  door,  or  Shakspeare 
leaning  on  his  column  in  Poets'  Corner,  or  Wolfe 


THE   MONUMENTS.  247 

expiring  by  the  Chapel  of  St.  John.  But,  in  fact,  they 
are,  in  their  different  ways,  keeping  guard  over  the 
shrine  of  our  monarchy  and  our  laws ;  and  their  very 
incongruity  and  variety  become  symbols  of  the  har- 
monious diversity  in  unity  which  pervades  our  whole 
commonwealth. 

Had  the  Abbey  of  St.  Denys  admitted  within  its 
walls  the  poet?  and  warriors  and  statesmen  of  France, 
the  Kings  might  yet  have  remained  inviolate  in  their 
graves.  Had  ths  monarchy  of  France  connected  itself 
with  the  surrounding  institutions  of  Church  and  State, 
assuredly  it  would  not  havfe  fallen  as  it  did  in  its  im- 
perial isolation.  Let  us  accept  the  omen  for  the  Abbey 
of  Westminster  —  let  us  accept  it  also  for  the  Throne 
and  State  of  England. 

1.  We  have  now  to  trace  the  slow  gradual  formation 
of  this  side  of  the  story  of  Westminster  —  a  counter- 
part of  the  irregular  uncertain  course  of  the  history  of 
England  itself.  Eeserving  for  future  consideration  the 
graves  of  those  connected  with  the  Convent,1  it  was 
natural  that,  in  the  first  instance,  the  Cloisters,  which 
contained  the  little  monastic  cemetery,  should  also 
admit  the  immediate  families  and  retainers  of  the 
Court.  It  was  the  burial-place  of  the  adjacent  Palace 
of  Westminster,  just  as  now  the  precincts  of  St. 
(leorge's  Chapel  contain  the  burial-place  of  the  im- 
mediate dependants  of  the  Castle  of  Windsor.  The 
earliest  of  these  humbler  intruders,  who  heads,  as  it 
were,  the  long  series  of  private  monuments  — 
was  Hugolin,  the  chamberlain  of  the  Con- 
fessor, buried  (with  a  fitness,  perhaps,  hardly  appre- 
ciated at  the  time)  within  or  hard  by  the  Royal 
Treasury,  which  he  had  kept  so  well.2  Not  far  off 
1  Set-  Chapter  V.  -  See  Chapters  I.  and  V. 


248  THE   MONUMENTS. 

(we  know  not  where)  was  Geoffrey  of  Mandeville,  with 
Geoffrey  of  lns  w^e  Adelaide,  who  followed  the  Conqueror 
Mandeviiie.  £O  Hastings,  and  who,  in  return  for  his  burial 
here,  gave  to  the  Abbey  the  manor  of  Eye,  then  a 
waste  morass,  which  gave  its  name  to  the  Eye  Brook, 
and  under  the  names  of  Hyde,  Eye-bury  (or  Ebury), 
and  Neate,  contained  Hyde  Park,  Belgravia,  and 
Chelsea1 

We  dimly  trace  a  few  interments  within  the  Church. 
Amongst  these  were  Egelric,  Bishop  of  Durham,  im- 
E.'einc  prisoned  at  Westminster,  where,  by  prayer 
de7cVtn'>llk  an(l  fasting,  he  acquired  the  fame  of  an 
NOVO,  1247.  ancilorite  _  buried  in  the  Porch  of  St.  Nich- 
olas;2 Sir  Fulk  de  Castro  Novo,  cousin  of  Henry  III, 
and  attended  to  his  grave  by  the  King;3  liichard  of 
Wendover,  Bishop  of  Rochester,  who  had  the  reputa- 
tion of  a  saint;4  Ford,  Abbot  of  Glaston- 

Richard  of 

i25i.d°Abbot  bury;5  Trussel,  Speaker  of  the  House  of 
Trussel"01'  Commons  in  the  reigns  of  Edward  II.  and 
1364-  '  Edward  III,  buried  in  St.  Michael's  Chapel;6 
Walter  Leycester  (1391),  buried  in  the  North  Transept, 

at  the  foot  of  the  Great  Crucifix.7 

» 

1  Widmore,  p.  21 ;  Arch.  xxvi.  23.  2  See  Chapter  V. 

3  Matthew  Paris,  724. 

4  Ar.y/ia  Sacra,  i.  348-350.     Weever,  p.  338. 

5  Domerham,  525. 

*>  In  connection  both  with  the  House  of  Commons  in  the  Chapter 
House,  and  the  interment  of  eminent  commoners  in  the  Abbey,  must 
be  mentioned  that  of  William  Trussel,  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, in  St.  Michael's  Chapel.  (Crull,  290.)  Mr.  F.  S.  Haydon  has 
assisted  me  in  the  probable  identification  of  this  '  MODS.  William 
Trussel,'  who  was  Speaker  in  1306  (Rolls  of  Parl.  1369),  witli  a  pro- 
curator for  Parliament  and  an  escheator  south  of  Trent  in  1327.  If 
so,  his  death  was  on  July  20,  1364.  (Frag.  p.  m.  37  E.  III.  No.  69.) 
Foss's  Jitdr/fs,  iii.  307-309. 

7  Will  of  Waller  Leycester,  Serjeant-at-arms,  dated  at  Westminster, 
September  3,  1389.  — To  be  buried  in  the  Chapel  of  St.  Mary  the 


THE   MONUMENTS.  249 

But  the  first  distinct  impulse  given  to  the  tombs 
of  famous  citizens  was  from  Richard  IT.  It  was  the 
result  of  his  passionate  attachment  to  "West-  COURTIERS 

,.,.,,.  ,  -i     -I    c  OF  RICHARD 

minster,  combined  with  his  unbounded  favour-  H- 
itism.     His  courtiers  and  officers  were  the  first  mag- 
nates not  of  royal  blood  who  reached  the  heart  of  the 
Abbey.     John  of  Waltham,  Bishop  of  Salis-  John  of 
bury,   Treasurer,  Keeper  of  the   Privy  Seal,  isk  ' 
and  Master  of  the   Rolls,  was,  by  the  King's  orders, 
buried  not  only  in  the  church,  but  in  the  Chapel  of  the 
Confessor,  amongst  the  Kings.1     It  was  not  without  a 
general   murmur   of    indignation2  that    this    intrusion 
was  effected ;  but  the  disturbance  of  the  mosaic  pave- 
ment by  the  brass  effigy  marks  the  unusual  honour, 
the  pledge   of   the   ever-increasing   magnitude   of   the 
succession  of  English   statesmen,  whose  statues  from 
the  adjoining  transept  may  claim  John  of  Waltham  as 
their    venerable    precursor.     Other    favourites    of   the 
same  sovereign  lie  in  graves   only  less   distinguished. 
Sir  John  Golofre,  who  was  his  ambassador  in  G()lofl.e> 
France,  was,  by  the  King's  express  command,  1;;%- 
transferred  from  the  Grey  Friars'  Church  at  Walling- 
ford,  where  he  himself  had  desired  to  be  buried,  and 
was  laid  close  beneath  his  master's  tomb.3     The  father- 
Virgin,  in   tlie   Church   of   St.  Margaret,  Westminster  —  afterwards 
altered  thus  in  the  codicil,  April  5,  1391  : 

'  Volo  et  logo  ijuod  corpus  incum  sepeliatnr  in  ecclesia  Sancti  Potri 
Monasterii  Westm'  corain  magiia  cruce  in  parte  boriali  ecclesie  ejus- 
dem.'  He  had  a  house  at  Westminster.  Amongst  his  executors  was 
'  Magistor  Arnold  Brokas.' 

1  Godwin,  p.  .359. 

2  Inter  rogos,  multis  murnuirantihus.     (Walsingham,  ii.  218.)     A 
like  intrusion  of  one  of   Richard's  favourites  into  a  royal  and  sacred 
place  occurs  in  the  interment  of  Archbishop  Courtney  close  to  Rocket's 
shrine  at  Canterbury. 

3  Dart,  ii.  il. 


Wiildel 
1397. 


250  THE  MONUMENTS. 

in-law  of  Golofre,1  Sir  Bernard  Brocas,  who  was  cham- 
Brorus  berlain  to  Richard's  Queen,  and  was  beheaded 
on  Tower  Hill,  in  consequence  of  having 
joined  in  a  conspiracy  to  reinstate  him,  lies  in  the 
almost  regal  Chapel  of  St.  Edmund.2  He  was  famous 
for  his  ancient  descent,  his  Spanish  connection  (as  was 
supposed)  with  Brozas  near  Alcantara,  above  all,  his 
wars  with  the  Moors,  where  he  won  the  crest,  on  which 
his  helmet  rests,  of  the  crowned  head  of  a  Moor,  and 
which  was  either  the  result  or  the  cause  of  the  'ac- 
count' to  which  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  was  so  'very 
attentive,'  of  '  the  lord  who  cut  oft'  the  King  of 
Morocco's  head.'  3  Close  to  him  rests  Robert 
Waldeby,  the  accomplished  companion  of  the 
Black  Prince,  then  the  tutor  of  Richard  himself,  and 
through  his  influence  raised  to  the  sees  successively  of 
Aire  in  Gascony,  Dublin,  Chichester,  and  York,  who, 
renowned  as  at  once  physician  and  divine,  is  in  the 
Abbey  the  first  representative  of  literature,  as  Walthara 
is  of  statesmanship. 

Next  come  the  chiefs  of  the  court  and  camp  of 
Henry  V.  One,  like  John  of  Waltham,  lies  in  the 
COURTH-.RS^  Confessor's  Chapel  *  —  Richard  Courtney, 
Courtney,  '  Bishop  of  Norwich,  who  during  his  illness  at 

(lit*  I  Sept 

1.0,1415.        HarHeur  was  tenderly  nursed  by  the  King 

Rolisart,  .  J  J 

himself,  and  died  immediately  before  the 
battle  of  Agincourt.5  Lewis  Robsart,  who  from  his 
exploits  on  that  great  day  was  made  the  King's 

1  Crull,  App.  p.  20. 

2  See  Chapter  III. 

3  Spectator,  No.  329.     An  inscription  was  composed  by  the  family 
in  1838.     See  Neale,  ii.  156,  and  Gough's  Sepulchral  Monuments,  1399. 

4  On  the  north  side  of  the  Shrine  —  'in  ijjsius  ostii  ingressu.'     (God 
win,  p.  438.) 

5  Tyler's  Henry  V.  ii.  148. 


THE  MONUMENTS.  251 

standard-bearer,  was  a  few  years  afterwards  interred 
in  St.  Paul's  Chapel;  and  on  the  same  side  in  the 
northern  aisle,  at  the  entrance  of  the  Chapels  of  the 
two  St.  Johns,  were  laid  under  brass  effigies,  Windsor, 
which  can  still  be  faintly  traced,  Sir  John  pedo'n,H5T. 
Windsor  and  Sir  John  Harpedon. 

The  fashion  slowly  grew.     Though  Edward  IV.  him- 
self, with  his  best-beloved  companion  in  arms,  lies  at 
Windsor,  four   of   his   nobles   were   brought  COURTIERS 
to  Westminster.     Humphrey  Bourchier,  who  iv.  °Bour- 
died    at    the    field    of    Barnet,    was    buried  ixmi'carew, 

1471.     Dud- 

in  St.  Edmund's  Chapel.  In  St.  Nicholas's  'ey,  nsa. 
Chapel  lie  Lord  Carew,  who  died  in  the  same  year; 
and  Dudley  —  who,  being  the  first  Dean  of  Edward's 
new  Chapel  of  Windsor,  was  elevated  to  the  see 
of  Durham  —  uncle  of  Henry  VII.'s  notorious  finan- 
cier, and  founder  of  the  great  house  which  bore  his 
name.  The  first  layman  in  the  Chapel  of  St.  John 
the  Baptist  is  Sir  Thomas  Vaughan.  treasurer  „ 

^  aughan. 

to  Edward  1Y.  and  chamberlain  to  Edward  Y. 

The  renewed  affection  for  the  Abbey  in  the  person  of 
Henry  VII.1  reflects  itself  in  the  tombs  of  three  of  his 
courtiers.     In  the  Chapel  of  St.  Nicholas  is  COI-RTIERS 
interred  Sir  Humphrey  Stanley,  who  with  his  vii. 

1  "  Stanley, 

relatives  had  in  the  Battle  of  Bosworth  fought  l->^- 
on  the  victorious  side.2     In  the  Chapel  of  St.  Paul  is 
the  King's  chamberlain  and  cousin,  Sir  Charles  D.lulll.llt.v 
Daubeney,  Lord-Lieutenant  of  Calais  ;  and  in  }^ilMt 
that   of   St.   John   the   Baptist    his    favourite  u'";!> 

1  A  curious  record  of  Henry  VII.'s  adventures  in  crossing  by  the 
Channel  Islands  is  preserved  on  Sir  Thomas  Ilardv's  monument  in  the 
Nave,  erected  in  1732. 

'2  Hence  the  burial  or  other  members  of  the  Derby  family  in  this 
chapel  (Register,  1603,  1G20,  1631.) 


252  THE   MONUMENTS 

secretary  Euthell,1  Bishop  of  Durham,  victim  of  his 
own  fatal  mistake  in  sending  to  his  second  master, 
Henry  VIII.,  the  inventory  of  his  private  wealth, 
instead  of  a  state-paper  on  the  affairs  of  the  nation. 

The  statesmen  and  divines  who  died  under  Henry 
VIII.,  Edward  VI.,  and  Mary,  have  left  hardly  any 
trace  in  the  Abbey.  "VVolsey  had  wavered,  as  it  would 
seem,  between  Windsor  and  Westminster.  But,  whilst 
the  Chapel  long  called  after  his  name,  remains  at 
"Windsor,  and  his  sarcophagus  has  been  appropriated 
to  another  use  at  St.  Paul's,  no  indication  can  be  found 
at  the  '  West-Monastery '  of  the  tomb  which  Skelton 
'  saw  a  making  at  a  sumptuous  cost,  more  pertaining 
for  an  Emperor  or  maxymyous  King  than  for  such  a 
man  as  he  was,  altho'  Cardinals  will  compare  with 
Kings.' 2  Sir  Thomas  Clifford,  Governor  of  Berwick, 
and  his  wife  lie  under  the  pavement  of  the  Choir,3 
with  two  or  three  other  persons  of  obscure  name.4 
Tower  Hill,  Smithfield,  and  the  ditch  beneath  the  walls 
of  Oxford,  in  that  fierce  struggle,  contain  ashes  more 
illustrious  than  any  interred  in  consecrated  precincts. 

1  Godwin,  p.  755.  —  lie  died  at  Durham  Place,  in  the  Straud  ; 
hence,  perhaps,  his  burial  at  Westminster.  His  tomb  seems  originally 
to  have  been  in  the  centre,  and  the  place  which  it  now  occupies  was 
originally  the  entrance  to  the  Chapel.  The  present  entrance  was  ef- 
fected at  a  later  time  —  probably  when  Hunsdon's  monument  was 
erected  —  through  the  little  Chapel  of  St.  Erasmus. 

-  Me, -ye.  Talcs  of  Skelton  (ed.  Hazlitt,  p.  18). 

3  Dart,  ii.  23.     Machyn's  Diary,  Nov.  26,  1557. 

4  '  Master  Wentworth,'  cofferer  to  Queen  Mary.     (Machyn,  Oct.  23, 
1558).     'Master  (Jennings'   (ibid.),  servant  of  Philip  and  Mary,  who 
left  considerable  sums  to  the  abbot  and  monks,  and  desired  to  be  buried 
under  a  brass.     Nov.  26,  1557.     Diego  or  Didacus  Sanchez,  a  Spanish 
noble,  was  buried  in  the  last  year  of  Mary  (1557)  in  the  North  Tran- 
sept.   (These  particulars  I  learn  from  his  will,  communicated  by  Colonel 
Chester.)      Sir   Thomas    Parry,    treasurer   of    Elizabeth's    household, 
with  a  monument  (1560),  is  in  the  Islip  Chapel. 


OF  THE  LADIES  OF  THE  TUDOR  COURT.   253 

It  is  characteristic  of  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, when  the  destinies  of  Europe  were  woven  by  the 
hands  of  the  extraordinary  Queens  who  ruled  LADIM  OF 

THE  TUDOR 

ths  fortunes  of  France,  England,  and  Scotland,  COI-RT. 
and  when  the  royal  tombs  in  the  Abbey  are  occupied 
by  Elizabeth,  the  two  Marys,  and  the  two  Margarets,1 
that  the  more  private  history  of  the  time  should  also 
be  traced,  more  than  at  any  other  period,  by  the  sepul- 
chres   of    illustrious     ladies.     Frances    Grey,  Fran(.es 
Duchess  of  Suffolk,  granddaughter2  of  Henry  Duchess  of 
VII.,  by  Charles   Brandon  and  Mary  Queen  KIlW 
of  France,  and  mother  of  Lady  Jane  Grey,  u>  1:>J°' 
reposes  in  the  Chapel  of  St.  Edmund,  under  a  stately 
monument    erected   by   her  second    husband,    Adrian 
Stokes,3  Esquire.     '  What !' exclaimed  Elizabeth,  '  hath 
she  married   her   horsekeeper  ? '     'Yes,    Madam,'   was 
the  reply,  '  and  she  saith  that  your  Majesty  would  fain 
do  the  same ; '  alluding  to  Leicester,  the  Master  of  the 
Horse.     She  lived  just  long  enough  to  see  the  betrothal 
of  her  daughter,  Catherine  Grey,  to  the  Earl  of  Hert- 
ford,4 and  to  enjoy  the   turn  of  fortune  which  restored 
Elizabeth    to    the  throne,  and    thus   allowed    her  own 
sepulture    beside    her   royal    ancestors.5     The    service 
was    probably  the  first  celebrated    in    English    in    the 
Abbey  since  Elizabeth's  accession ;  and  it  was  followed 
by  the  Communion  Service,6  in  which  the  Dean  (Dr. 
Bill)  officiated,  and  Jewell  preached  the  sermon.     Could 
her  Puritanical  spirit  have  known  the  site  of  her  tomb, 

1  See  Chapter  III.  2  Machyn's  Diary,  Dec.  5,  1559. 

3  Nnpta  Dui'i  priiis  cst,  uxor  post  Anniqcri  Slukcs.     (Epitaph.) 

4  Cooper's  Lift-  of  Arabella  Stuart,  i.  17iJ. 

°  Compare  Edward  VI. 's  funeral,  Chapter  III. 
B  Strype's  Annuls,  i.  292.  —  The  monument  was   not   erected    till 
1 J63. 


254  THE   MONUMENTS 

she  would  have  rejoiced  in  the  thought  that  it  was  to 
take  the  place  of  St.  Edmund's  altar,  and  thus 

Her  tomb. 

he  the  first  to  efface  the  memory  of  one  of 
the  venerated  shrines  of  the  old  Catholic  saints. 

The  same  lot  befell  the  altar  of  St.  Nicholas,  which 
sank  under  the  still  more  splendid  pile  of  a  still 
grander  patroness  of  the  Reformation  —  Anne  Seymour, 

descended  by  the  Stanhopes  and  Bourchiers 

Anne 

Seymour,       from  Anne,  sole  heir  of  Thomas  of  Woodstock, 
somerset,      herself  widow  of  the  Protector  Somerset,  and 

1587. 

sister-in-law  of  Queen  Jane  Seymour  — '  a 
mannish  or  rather  a  devilish  woman,  for  any  imperfect- 
ibilities  intolerable,  but  for  pride  monstrous,  exceeding 
subtle  and  violent/1  She  lived  far  into  the  reign  of 
Elizabeth,  and  died,  at  the  age  of  90,  on  Easter  Day, 
leaving  behind  a  noble  race,  which  in  later  days  was 
to  transfer  the  chapel  where  she  lies  to  another  family 
not  less  noble,  and  make  it  the  joint  burial-place  of 
the  Seymours  and  the  Percys2 

To  these  we  must  add  one,  who,  though  she  herself 
belongs  to  the  next  generation,  yet  by  her  title  and 
lineage  is  connected  directly  with  the  earlier  period. 
Not  in  the  royal  chapels,  but  first  of  any  secular 
Frances  grandee  in  the  ecclesiastical  Chapel  of  St. 

Howard,  . 

countess  of    Benedict,  is  the  monument  of  Frances  Howard, 
IMS.  sister  of  the  Lord  High  Admiral  who  repulsed 

the  Armada,  but,   by  her  marriage  with   the    Earl   of 

1  Sir  J.  Hay  ward.     See  Life  of  Arabella  Stuart,  i.  170. 

2  The  marriage  of  Charles  Seymour  (1726),  the  'proud  Duke '  of 
Somerset,  to  Elizabeth  Percy,  caused  the  interment  and  monument  of 
her  granddaughter,  the  first  Duchess  of  Northumberland,  in  St.  Nicho- 
las's Chapel  ;    hence  the   interment   of  the   Percy  family  JaA    Jane 
in  the  same  place  for  the  last  three  generations.     Lady  Clifford, 
Jane  Clifford,  whose  grave  and  monument  are  also  here 

(1629J,  was  a  great-granddaughter  of  the  Protector  Somerset. 


OF    ELIZABETHAN   MAGNATES.  255 

Hertford,  daughter-in-law  of  the  Duchess  of  Somerset, 
from  whom  we  have  just  parted.  Like  those  other 
two  ladies,  she  in  her  tomb  destroyed  the  vestiges  of 
the  ancient  altar  of  the  chapel,  as  if  the  spirit  of  the 
Seymours  still  lived  again  in  each  succeeding  genera- 
tion. Both  monuments  were  erected  by  the  Earl  of 
Hertford,  son  to  the  one  and  husband  to  the  ether. 

Frances  Sidney  occupies  the  place  of  the  altar  in 
the  Chapel  of  St.  Paul.  She  claims  remembrance  a.s 
the  aunt  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney,1  and  the  wife  of  Puitclifl'e 
Earl  of  Sussex,  known  to  all  readers  of  '  Kenilworth ' 
as  the  rival  of  Leicester.  Her  more  splendid  monu- 
ment is  the  college  in  Cambridge,  called  after  Frances 
her  double  name,  Sidney  Sussex,  which,  with  countess 

of  Sussex, 

her  descendants  of  the  Houses  of  Pembroke,  i^sa. 
Carnarvon,  and    Sidney,  undertook  the   restoration  of 
her  tomb. 

But  the  reign  of   Elizabeth  also  brings  with  it  the 
first  distinct  recognition  of  the  Abbey  as  a  Temple  of 
Fame.     It  was   the    natural    consequence   of  KUZA- 
the  fact  that  amongst  her  favourites  so  many  MAGNATES. 
were  heroes  and  heroines.     Their  tombs  literally  verify 
Gray's  description  of  her  court : 

Girt  with  many  a  baron  bold, 

Sublime  their  starry  fronts  they  rear; 

And  uorjjcous  dame?,  and  statesmen  old 
In  bearded  majesty,  appear. 

What  strings  symphonious  tremble  in  the  air, 

What  strains  of  voeal  transport  round  her  play! 

Not  only  does  Poets'  Corner  now  leap  into  new  life, 
but  the  councillors  and  warriors,  who  in  the  long  pre- 
ceding reigns  had  dropped  in  here  and  there,  accord- 
ing to  the  uncertain  light  of  court-favour,  suddenly  close- 

1  The  porcupines  of  the  Sidneys  are  conspicuous  <>n  licr  tomb. 


256  THE   MONUMENTS 

round  upon  us,  and  the  vacant  chapels  are  thronged, 
as  if  with  the  first  burst  of  national  life  and  indepen- 
dence. Now  also  that  life  and  independence  are  seen 
in  forms  peculiar  to  the  age,  when  the  old  traditions 
of  Christendom  gave  way  before  that  epoch  of  rev- 
olution. The  royal  monuments,  though  changed  in 
architectural  decoration,  still  preserved  the  antique 
attitude  and  position,  and  hardly  interfered  with  the 
outline  of  the  sacred  edifice.  But  the  taste  of  private 
individuals  at  once  claimed  its  new  liberty,  and  opened 
the  way  to  that  extravagant  latitude  of  monumental 
innovation  which  prevailed  throughout  Europe,  and 
in  our  own  day  has  roused  a  reaction  against  the 
whole  sepulchral  fame  of  the  Abbey. 

The  '  gorgeous  dames '  are  for  the  most  part  recum- 
bent. But,  as  wTe  have  seen,  they  have  trampled  on  the 
ancient  altars  in  their  respective  chapels.  The  Duchess 
of  Suffolk  still  faces  the  east;  but  the  Duchess  of 
Somerset  and  the  Countess  of  Hertford,  dying  thirty 
and  forty  years  later,  lie  north  and  south.  Two  mural 
tablets,  first  of  their  kind,  commemorate  in  the  Chapel 
of  St.  Edmund  the  cousin  of  Edward  VI.,  Jane  Sey- 
Lady  Jane  mour,1  daughter  of  the  Protector  Somerset 

Seymour, 

(erected  by  her  brother,  the  same  Earl  of  Hert- 
ford whom  we  have  twice  met  already) ;  and  the  cousin 
Lady  of  Elizabeth,  Catherine  Knollys,  sister  of  Lord 

Kno'uya,       Hunsdon,  who  had  attended  her  aunt,  Anne 

15(53.     Sir 

R.  Pecksaii,   Boleyii,  to  the  scaffold.     Then  follow,  in  the 

died  Oct.  10, 

ij7i.  same  chapel,  Sir  E.  Pecksall,  with   his  two 

wives,  drawn  hither  by  the  attraction  of  the  contiguous 
grave  of  Sir  Bernard  Brocas,  from  whom,  through  his 

1  Intended  as  the  wife  of  Edward  VI.  —  afterwards  friend  of 
Catherine  Grey,  daughter  of  the  Duchess  of  Suffolk.  (Cooper's  Life 
of  Arabella  Stuart,  \.  185.) 


OF   ELIZABETHAN  MAGNATES.  257 

mother,1  he  inherited  the  post  of  Master  of  the  Buck- 
hounds  to  the  Queen,  and  through  whom  the  Brocas 
family  were  continued.  They  have  risen  from  their 
couches,  and  are  on  their  knees. 

The  Bussell  family,  already  great  with  the  spoils 
of  monasteries,  are  hard  by.  John  Baron  Eussell, 
second  son  of  the  second  earl,2  after  a  long  J«>im  Lord 

3    Russt'll, 

tour  abroad,  died  at  Highgate,3  and  lies  here  ^4. 
recumbent,  but  with  his  face  turned  towards  the  spec- 
tator; whilst  his  daughter,  first  of  all  the  sepulchral 
effigies,  is  seated   erect,  'not  .dead   but   sleeping,'4   in 
her  osier-chair — the  prototype  of  those  easy  postures 
which  have  so  grievously  scandalised  our  more  His  ,,lonu. 
reverential  age.     The  monument  to  the  father  5 
i?  erected  by  his  widow,  the  accomplished  daughter  of 
Sir  Antony  Cook,  who  has  commemorated  her  husband's 
virtues  in  Latin,  Greek,  and  English  —  an  ostentation 
of  learning  characteristic  of  the  age  of  Lady  Jane  Grey, 
but    provoking   the   censure   of   the   simpler   taste    of 
Addison.6     The  monument  to  their  daughter  Kli/.,,)eth 
Elizabeth  is  erected  by  her  sister  Anne.     She  Kusst"- 
is  a  complete  child  of  "Westminster.     Her  mother,  in 
consequence  of  the  plague,  was  allowed  by  the  Dean 
(Goodman)  to  await   her  delivery   in  a   house   within 
the    Precincts.7      The    infant    was    christened    in    the 

1  Ncale,  ii.  156.  —  His  funeral  fees  went  to  Imy  hangings  for  the 
reredos.  (Chapter  Book,  1571.) 

-  Wiffin's  House  of  Ibisse/l,  i.  403,  503. 

3  Lord  Russell  had  a  house  within  the  Precincts.     (Chapter  Book, 
1581.) 

4  Dormit,  non  mortnn  r.st  (Epitaph). 

5  Restored  by  the  Duke  of  Bedford  in  1SG7. 

6  Spectator,  No.  329. 

7  Lord  Russell's  letter  to  the  Queen  announcing  the  birth,  is  dated 
at  Westminster  College,  October  22,  1575.     (Wiflin's  House  of  Russell, 
i.  502.) 

VOL.  i.  — 17 


258  THE  MONUMENTS 

Abbey.  The  procession  started  from  the  Deanery.  The 
Queen,  from  whom  she  derived  her  name,  was  god- 
Her  chris-  mother,  but  acted  by  her  '  deputy,'  the  Coun- 
i57™8>  tess  of  Warwick,  who  appeared  accordingly  in 
royal  state  —  Lady  Burleigh,  the  child's  aunt,  carry- 
ins  the  train.  The  other  godmother  was  Frances 

O  *-7 

Countess  of  Sussex.  These  distinguished  sponsors  drew 
to  the  ceremony  two  of  the  most  notable  statesmen 
of  the  time,  the  Earl  of  Leicester  and  Sir  Philip 
Sidney,  who  emerged  from  the  Confessor's  Chapel,  after 
the  conclusion  of  the  service,  with  towels  and  basins. 
The  procession  returned,  through  the  Cloisters,  to  a 
stately,  costly,  and  delicate  banquet  within  the  Pre- 
cincts. Thus  ushered  into  the  Abbey  by  such  a  host 
of  worthies,  four  of  whom  are  themselves  interred  in 
it,  Elizabeth  Eussell  became  maid  of  honour  to  her 
Her  death,  royal  godmother,  and  finally  was  herself  buried 
within  its  walls.  She  died  of  consumption, 
a  few  days  after  the  marriage  of  her  sister  Anne  at 
Blackfriars,  at  which  the  Queen  attended,  as  represented 
in  the  celebrated  Sherborne  Castle  picture.1  Such  was 
her  real  end.  But  the  form  of  her  monument  has 

bred    one   of   '  the   vulgar   errors '   of   West- 
Her  monu- 
ment, minster  mythology.     Her  finger  pointing  to 

the  skull,  the  emblem  of  mortality  at  her  feet,  had 
already,2  within  seventy  years  from  her  death,  led  to 
the  legend  that  she  had  '  died  of  the  prick  of  a  needle,' 3 
sometimes  magnified  into  a  judgment  on  her  for  work- 

1  See  'The  Visit  of  Queen  Elizabeth  to  Blackfriars,  in  1600,'  by 
George  Scharf,  in  Arch.  Journal,  xxiii.  131.     The  picture  contains  also 
the  portraits  of  John  Lord  Russell  (p.  218)  and  of  Lady  Catherine 
Knollys  (ibid.). 

2  Keepe,  i.  1680. 

3  Wiseman,  Chirurgical  Treatises,  1st  ed.  p.  278,   1676,  who  argues 
seriously  from  it  that  '  in  ill  habits  of  body  small  wounds  are  mortal.' 


OF  ELIZABETHAN   MAGNATES.  259 

ing  on  Sunday.  Sir  Koger  de  Coverley  was  conducted 
to  '  that  martyr  to  good  housewifery.'  Upon  the  inter- 
preter telling  him  that  she  was  maid  of  honour  to  Queen 
Elizabeth,  the  knight  was  very  inquisitive  into  her 
name  and  family  ;  and  after  having  regarded  her  finger 
for  some  time,  '  I  wonder,'  says  he,  '  that  Sir  Richard 
Baker  has  said  nothing  of  her  in  his  chronicle.' l 

In  the  Chapel  of  St.  Nicholas  lies  Winyfred  Brydges, 
Marchioness  of  Winchester,  who  was,  by  her  first  hus- 
band, Sir  R  Sackville,  cousin  of  Anne  Boleyn,  Winyfred 
and  mother  of  Thomas  Lord  Buckhurst,  the  jJS^ffoiiess 
poet,  and  of  Lady  Dacre,  foundress  of  Emman-  ciielte"^ 
uel  Hospital,  close  by  the  Abbey.     Her  second  loS0' 
husband  was  the  Marquis  of  Winchester,  who  boasted 
that  he  had  prospered  through  Elizabeth's   reign,  by 
having  '  the  pliancy  of  the  willow  rather  than  the  stub- 
bornness of  the  oak.' 

Sir  Thomas  Bromley  (in  the  Chapel  of  St.  Paul)  suc- 
ceeded Sir  Nicholas  Bacon  as  Lord  Chancellor,  and  in 
that  capacity  presided  at  the  trial  of  Mary  sir  Thomas 
Queen  of  Scots,  and  died  immediately  after-  1537.' 
wards.     Sir  John  Puckering;  (in  the  Chapel  of  sir  John 

r  Puckering, 

St.  Nicholas)  prosecuted  botli  Mary  and  the  1590. 
unfortunate  Secretary  Davison,  and  succeeded  Sir  Chris- 
topher Hatton  as  Lord  Keeper  —  his  '  lawyer-like  and 
ungenteel '  appearance  presenting  so  forcible  a  contrast 
to  his  predecessor,  that  the  Queen  could  with  difficulty 
overcome  her  repugnance  to  his  appointment.  It  was 
he  who  defined  to  Speaker  Coke  the  liberty  allowed  to 
the  Commons :  '  Liberty  of  speech  is  granted  you  ;  but 
you  must  know  what  privilege  you  have,  not  to  speak 

1  Spectator,  No.  329.  —  Compare  Goldsmith's  Citizen  of  the  \Vorltl. 
'  He  told,  without  blushing,  a  hundred  lies.  He  talked  of  a  lady  who 
died  by  pricking  her  finger.' 


260  TUP:  MONUMENTS 

every  one  what  he  listeth,  or  what  cometh  in  his  brain 
to  utter  ;  hut  your  privilege  is  Aye  or  No.' l  To  Sir 
sir  Thomas  Thomas  Owen  of  Cuudover,  Justice  of  the 
1598."'  Common  Pleas,  friend  of  Sir  Nicholas  Bacon, 
a  fine  effigy,  resembling  the  portrait  of  him  still  pre- 
served at  Cundover,  was  erected  by  his  son  Roger,  in 
the  south  aisle  of  the  Choir.  The  tomb  bears 
the  motto,  given  to  him  by  the  Queen,  in  allu- 
sion to  his  humble  origin,  '  Mcmorare  no'jissima ;'  and 
his  own  quaint  epitaph,  '  Spes,  vermis,  ct  cyo.' 

But  the  most  conspicuous  monuments  of  this  era 
are  those  of  Lord  Hunsdon  and  of  the  Cecils.  Henry 
Lord  nuns-  Gary,  BarOn  Hunsdon,  the  rough  honest  cham- 
don,  1526.  berlain  to  Queen  Elizabeth,  brother  of  Lady 
Catherine  Knollys,  has  a  place  and  memorial  worthy  of 
his  confidential  relations  with  the  Queen,  who  was  his 
first-cousin.  Like  his  two  princely  kinswomen  in  the 
Chapels  of  St.  Edmund  and  St.  Nicholas,  his  interment 
was  signalised  by  displacing  the  altar  of  the  Chapel  of 
Hisnionu-  St.  John  the  Baptist.  The  monument  was  re- 
markable, even  in  the  last  century,  as  '  most 
magnificent,'  2  and  is,  in  fact,  the  loftiest  in  the  Abbey. 
It  would  almost  seem  as  if  his  son,3  who  erected  it, 
laboured  to  make  up  to  the  old  statesman  for  the  long- 
expected  honours  of  the  earldom  —  three  times  granted, 
and  three  times  revoked.  The  Queen  at  last  came  to 
see  him,  and  laid  the  patent  and  the  robes  on  his  bed. 
'  Madam,'  he  answered,  '  seeing  you  counted  me  not 
worthy  of  this  honour  whilst  I  was  living,  I  count 
myself  unworthy  of  it  now  I  am  dying.'  4  He,  like  Sir 

1  Campbell's  Lives  of  the  Chancellors,  ii.  1 75. 

2  Fuller's  Worthies,  i.  433. 

3  Lady  Hunsdon  was  buried  with  him  (1606-7),  also  the  widow  of 
his  son  (1617-18;      (Burial  Hegister.)  *  Puller's  Worthies,  i.  438. 


OF   ELIZABETHAN   MAGNATES.  261 

R.  Sackville,  '  belonged/  as  Leicester  said,  '  to  the  tribe 
of  Dan,  and  was  Noli  me  tangerc.' 1  '  I  doubt  much, 
my  Harry,'  wrote  Elizabeth  to  him  after  his  suppression 
of  the  Northern  Rebellion,  '  whether  that  the  victory 
given  me  more  joyed  me,  or  that  you  were  by  God  ap- 
pointed the  instrument  of  my  glory.'  2  And  with  the 
bitterness  of  a  true  patriot,  as  well  as  a  true  kinsman, 
he  was  at  times  so  affected  as  to  be  '  almost  senseless, 
considering  the  time,  the  necessity  Her  Majesty  hath  of 
assured  friends,  the  needfulness  of  good  and  sound 
^counsel,  and  the  small  care  it  seems  she  hath  of  either. 
Either  she  is  bewitched,'  or  doomed  to  destruction.3 

Lord  Burleigh  was  attached  to  Westminster  by  many 
ties.  He  was  the  intimate  friend  of  the  Dean,  Gabriel 

Goodman  ;  and  this,  combined  with  his  High  The  Cecils. 

.  Lord  Bur- 

Stewardship,  led  to  his  being  called,  in  play,  leigii,  ions. 

'  the  Dean  of  Westminster,'  4  and  he  had  in  his  earlier 
days  lived  in  the  Precincts.5  Although  he  was  buried 
at  Stamford,  his  funeral  was  celebrated  in  the 

His  funeral. 

Abbey,  over  the  graves  of  his  wife 6  and 
daughter,  where  already  stood  the  towering  monu- 
ment," erected  to  them  before  his  death,  in  the  Chapel 
of  St.  Nicholas.  It  expresses  the  great  grief  of  his  life, 
which,  but  for  the  earnest  entreaties  of  the  Queen, 
would  have  driven  him  from  his  public  duties  alto- 
gether. '  If  anyone  ask,'  says  his  epitaph,  '  who  is  that 
aged  man,  on  bended  knees,  venerable  from  his  hoary 
hairs,  in  his  robes  of  state,  and  with  the  order  of  the 

1  Aikin's  Elizabeth,  i.  243. 

-  Ibid.  3  Froude,  ix.  r>57. 

4  Strype's  ^ftmo^i(lls  of  Purl-c-r.  5  Chapter  Book,  1551. 

0  She  too  had  made  Dean  (ioodmau  one  of  her  chief  advisers. 
(Strype's  Annuls,  iii.  2.  127.) 

7  The  monument  has  heen  recently  restored  by  the  present  Marquis 
of  Salisbury,  who  is  directly  descended  from  this  marriage. 


262 


THE  MONUMENTS 


~  ^     °N.  Bagenall 


°Sir  O.  Villiers 

||  QUEEN    CATHERINE 


°W.   Brydges 


Duchess  of 
a*  °Sir  II.  Stanley  Northumberland 

||  Percy  Family 
-'Lady  Jane 

Clifford  oPHILIPPA 

°E.  Cecil  DUCHESS  OK   YORK 


||  Sir  II.  Spelman 


W 


CHAPEL   OF   ST.   NICHOLAS. 


0  POPHAM 


°T.  Cary 


0  HUnil    AND   MARY 
DE   B01IUN 


°Lord  Hunsdon 


°Ceoil 
Earl   of   Exeter 


II  Devereux 
Earl   of   Essex 


°Mary  Kendall 

0  Abbot  Fascet      °  Bp.  Huthall      °  Abbot  Colchester 

°  Abbot  .'\fitHn(i 

||  STRODE 
CHAPEL  OF   ST.   JOHN   THE   BAPTIST. 


OF  ELIZABETHAN  MAGNATES. 


263 


w   °COL.  M'LEOD    °Sir  H.  Belasyse 


CHAPEL  OF   ST.   PAUL. 


0  E.    DK   BOHUX 

^Bishop  Feme       °Lady  Stafford 
>F.  HOLLES 

0  FRANTES 
GREY 


0  EDWARD   ITT.'S 
|,o  CHILDREN 

5     °JOIIN   OF   ELTHAM 


0  WILLIAM   DE   VALENCE 


CHAPEL   OF   ST.    EDMUND. 


264 


THE  MONUMENTS 


N. 


(Saint 
Andrew) 


(Saint 
Michael) 


W. 


(Saint  John 

the 
Evangelist) 


0  Dr.  Young 
0  Sarah  Siddous 

'  Abbot  Kyrton 

°Lord  and  Lady  Norris 


°J.  Kemble 


°Theodore  Paleologus 


°SiB  FRANCIS  VERB 


0  WOLFE 

°  Abbot  Esteney 
S. 


CHAPELS  OF   ST.   JOHN,   ST.    MICHAEL,   AND   ST.    ANDREW 


OF   ELIZABETHAN  MAGNATES.  265 

Garter  ? '  —  the  answer  is,  that  we  see  the  great  min 
ister  of  Elizabeth,  '  his  eyes  dim  with  tears  for  the  loss 
of  those  who  were  dearer  to  him  beyond  the  whole  race 
of  womankind.'  1     It  shows  the  degree  of  superhuman 
majesty  which  he  had  attained  in  English  history,  that 
'  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  was  very  well  pleased  to  see 
the  statesman  Cecil  on  his  knees.'     The  collar  of  St. 
George  marks  the  special  favour  by  which,  to  him  alone 
of  humble  birth,  Elizabeth  granted  the  Garter.     '  If  any 
ask,  who  are  those  noble  women,  splendidly  attired,  and 
who  are  they  at  their  head  and  feet  ? '  -  —  the  answer  is 
that    the    one   is    Mildred,  his   second    wife,  Mil(hv(l 
daughter  of  Sir  Antony  Cook,  and  sister  of  the  Bm'i't'igh,dy 
learned  lady  who  wrote  the  epitaphs  of  Lord  ljS9- 
Russell  in  the  adjacent  chapel,   '  partner  of  her  hus- 
band's   fortunes,  through   good   and   evil,   during   the 
reigns    of   Henry,   Edward,   Mary,   and    Elizabeth,'  - 
'  versed  in  all  sacred  literature,  especially  Basil,  Chry- 
sostom,  and  Gregory  Nazianzen  ; '    the   other  Aime  Vere 
'Anne,  his  daughter,  wedded  to  the  Earl  of  Oxford,880' 
Oxford;'  at  her  feet,  his  second  son,  Robert  Ij88- 
Cecil,  first  Earl  of  Salisbury,  and  at  her  head  her  three 
daughters,  Elizabeth,  Bridget,   and  Susan   Vere.     But 
'neither  they,'  nor  his  elder  son  Thomas,  nor  '  all  his 
grandsons    and  granddaughters,'  will    efface    the    grief 
'with  which  the  old  man  clings  to  the  sad  monument 
of  his  lost  wife  and  daughter.'     Robert,  on  whom  his 
father  invokes  a  long  life,  lies  at  Hatlield  ;  but  Kii/;ii,cth 
his  wife  Elizabeth  has  a  tomb  in  this  chapel,  countess  of 
and  also  (removed  from  its  place  for  the  mon-   ir,;n. 
ument  of  the  Duchess  of  Northumberland)  his  countess  of 

'  Kxrtrr, 

niece  Elizabeth,  wife   of  the   second   Earl  of  ^o,  iv.u. 

1  The  inscription  is  very  differently  given  in  Wiustauley's  \Vortlues, 
p.  204. 


266  THE  MONUMENTS 

Exeter.  The  first  Earl,  Thomas,  after  a  life  full  of 
Thomas  years  and  honours,  lies  1  on  the  other  side  of 
of  Exeter,  the  Abbey,  in  the  Chapel  of  St.  John  the  Bap- 
aged  so.  tist.  This  tomb  was  built  for  himself  and  his 
Nevuiey  '  two  most  dear  wives  '  •  -  Dorothy  Neville, 

who  was  interred  there  before  him,  and  Fran- 
Frances 

i66V>'ges'  ces  Brydges,  who,  living  till  the  Eestoration, 
aged  83.  proudly  refused  to  let  her  effigy  fill  the  va- 
cancy on  the  left  side,  and  is  buried  at  Windsor. 

The  tombs  by  this  time  had  occupied  all  the  chief 
positions  in  the  chapels  round  the  Confessor's  shrine. 
There  remained  a  group  of  smaller  chapels,  abutting  on 
the  North  Transept,  hitherto  only  occupied  by  the 
Abbots : 2  Islip,  who  built  the  small  chapel  in  which 
he  lies,  and  which  bears  his  name ;  Esteney,  who  lies 
in  St.  John's,  and  Kirton  in  St.  Andrew's  Chapel.  But 
this  comparative  solitude  was  now  invaded  by  the  sud- 
den demand  of  the  Flemish  wars.3  The  one  unfor- 
gotten  hero  of  those  now  forgotten  battles,  Sir  Philip 
Sidney,  lies  under  the  pavement  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral, 
the  precursor,  by  a  long  interval,  of  Nelson  and  Wel- 
sir  Franc-is  lington.  But  to  Sir  Francis  Vere,  who  com- 
ere.icoo.  manjed  the  forces  in  the  Netherlands,  his 
widow  erected  a  tomb,  which  she  must  have  copied 
from  the  scene  *  of  his  exploits  —  in  a  direct  imitation 

1  The  funeral  sermon  (in  the  illness  of  Archbishop  Abbott)  was 
preached  by  Joseph  Hall.     (State  Papers,  March  8,  1623.) 

2  See  Chapter  V. 

3  This  part  of  the  Abbey,  during  the  two  next  centuries,  was  knowu 
as  'The  Tombs.'     (Register;  and  see  Fuller's  Church  History,  1621.) 

4  The  following  epitaph,  not  on  his  tomb,  records  his  end:  — 

When  Vere  sought  death,  arm'd  with  his  sword  and  shield, 
Death  was  afraid  to  muet  him  in  the  field  ; 
But  when  his  weapons  he  had  laid  aside, 
Death,  like  a  coward,  struck  him,  and  he  died. 
(Pettigrew,  158.) 


MONUMENT   TO   SIR   FKANCIS   VEEE. 


OF   ELIZABETHAN  MAGNATES.  267 

of  the  tomb  of  Engelbert1  Count  of  Nassau,  in  the 
church  at  Breda,  where,  as  here,  four  kneeling 

3    His  tomb. 

knights  support  the  arms  of  the  dead  man 
who  lies  underneath.  This  retention  of  an  older  taste 
has  always  drawn  a  tender  feeling  towards  the  tomb.2 
'  Hush !  hush !  he  vill  speak  presently,'  softly  whis- 
pered Koubiliac  to  a  question  thrice  repeated  by  one 
who  found  him  standing  with  folded  arms  and  eyes 
riveted  on  the  fourth  knight,  whose  lips  seem  just 
opening  to  address  the  bystander.3  By  a  natural  af- 
finity, the  tomb  of  Sir  Francis  Vere  drew  Thevpres 

and  Benu- 

after  it,  a  century  later,  the  last  of  his  de-  ciercs,  1702. 
scendants  into  the  same  vault  —  Aubrey  de  Vere,  the 
last  Earl  of  Oxford,  and  afterwards  the  Beauclerk  fam- 
ily, through  the  marriage  of  the  Duke  of  St.  Albans 
with  his  daughter  and  heiress,  Diana  de  Vere.4  Close 
beside  is  Sir  George  Holies,  his  kinsman  and  sirGeoiyp 
comrade  in  arms  —  on  a  monument  as  far  re-  * 
moved  from  mediaeval  times  as  that  of  Sir  Francis  Vere 
draws  near  to  them.  The  tall  statue  stands,  not,  like 
that  of  Vere,  modestly  apart  from  the  wall,  but  on 
the  site  of  the  altar  once  dedicated  to  the  Confessor's 
favourite  saint  —  the  first  in  the  Abbey  that  stands 
erect ;  the  first  that  wears,  not  the  costume  of  the  time, 
but  that  of  a  Roman  general ;  the  first  monument 
which,  in  its  sculpture,  reproduces  the  events  in  which 
the  hero  was  engaged  —  the  Battle  of  Nieuport.  He, 
like  Vere,  attracted  to  the  spot  his  later  descendants ; 

1  Compare  the  arrangement  of  the  tomb  of  the  Emperor  Lewis  at 
Munich. 

-  The  tomb  was  injured  by  the  workmen  engaged  on  Wolfe's 
monument,  ((ii'nt.  Mm/.) 

3  Cunningham's  Handbook,  p.  42.  This  same  story  is  told  of  the 
figure  on  the  N.  W.  corner  of  the  Norris  tomb.  (f.if'r  of  Nollekens,  ii. 
p.  86.)  *  See  Chapter  III. 


268  THE   MONUMENTS 

and  for  the  sake  of  the  neighbourhood  of  his  own  and 
his  wife's  ancestors  a  hundred  years  later,  rose  the 
gigantic  monument  of  John  Holies,  Duke  of  New- 
castle,1 who  lies  at  the  feet  of  his  illustrious  name- 
sake.2 Deeper  yet  into  these  chapels  the  Flemish 
trophies  penetrate.  Against  the  wall,  which  must 
have  held  the  altar  of  the  Chapel  of  St.  Andrew,  is 
De  Burgh,  the  niural  tablet  of  John  de  Burgh,  who  fell 
in  boarding  a  Spanish  ship ;  and  in  front  of 
it  rises  a  monument,  if  less  beautiful  than  that  of  Vere, 
yet  of  more  stirring  interest,  and  equally  connected 
with  the  wars  in  that  old  'cockpit  of  Europe.'  We 
have  seen  that  on  the  other  side  of  the  Abbey  was 
interred  Catherine  Knollys,  the  faithful  attendant  of 
Anne  Boleyn.  We  now  come  to  a  continuation  of  the 
same  mark  of  respect  on  the  part  of  Elizabeth — not 
often  shown,  it  is  said  —  for  those  who  had  been  stead- 
fast to  her  mother's  cause,  and,  curiously  enough,  to  a 
house  with  which  the  family  of  Knollys  was  in  con- 
stant strife.  Sir  Francis  Knollys,  the  husband  of 
Catherine  Carey,  and  Treasurer  of.  the  Queen's  House- 
hold,3 perhaps  from  their  neighbourhood  in  Oxford- 

1  Dart,  ii.  2. 

2  Another  Holies  —  Francis,  son  of  the  Earl  of  Clare,  who  died  at 
the  age  of  eighteen,  on  his  return  from  the  Flemish  war  a  few  years 

later  —  sits,  like  his  namesake,  in  Roman  costume  in  St. 
HoilesSlG92  E(lmun(l's  Chapel,  'a  figure  of  most  antique  simplicity  and 
beauty.'  (Horace  Wai  pole.)  His  pedestal  was  copied  from 
that  on  which,  in  a  similar  attitude,  close  by,  sits  Elizabeth  Russell 
(see  p.  184).  The  like  sentiment  of  a  premature  death  probably 
caused  this  twin-like  companionship.  The  close  of  his  epitaph 
deserves  notice : 

Man's  life  is  measured  by  his  work,  not  days, 
No  aged  sloth,  but  active  youth,  hath  praise. 

For  the  Holies  monuments  the  sculptor,  Stone,  received  respectively 
£100  and  £50  from  Lord  Clare.  (Walpole's  Anecdotes  of  Paintiny, 
ii-  59-)  3  Biog.  Britannica. 


OF    ELIZABETHAN   MAGNATES.  269 

shire,  was  a  deadly  rival  to  Henry  Norris.  '  Queen  Eliz- 
abeth loved  the  Knollyses  for  themselves ;  the  Xor- 
rises  for  themselves  and  herself.  The  Nor-  The  Xorris 
rises  got  more  honour  abroad ;  the  Knollyses  fi""lly> 
more  profit  at  home,  continuing  constantly  at  court; 
and  no  wonder,  if  they  were  the  warmest  who  sate 
next  the  tire.'  Henry  Norris  was  the  son  of  that  un- 
happy man  who,  alone  of  all  those  who  perished  on  the 
scaffold  with  Anne  Boleyn,  denied  or  was  silent  as  to 
her  guilt.  Elizabeth,  it  is  believed,  expressed  her  grati- 
tude for  the  chivalry  of  the  father  by  her  favour  to  the 
son.  He  was  further  endeared  to  her  by  the  affection 
she  had  for  his  wife,  Margaret,  daughter  of  Lord  Wil- 
liam of  Thame,  whom,  from  her  swarthy  complexion, 
the  Queen  called  'her  own  crow.'1  By  his  marriage 
with  Margaret,  Henry  Norris  inherited  liycote  n<-Mry  Lord 
in  Oxfordshire,  where,  according  to  his  ex-  ioos. 
pressed  intention,  the  local  tradition  maintains  that  he 
is  buried.2  The  monument  in  the  Abbey,  however,  is 
a  tribute,  'by  their  kindred,  not  only  to  himself,  but  to 
the  noble  acts,  the  valour,  and  high  worth  of  that  right 
valiant  and  warlike  progeny  of  his  —  a  brood  of  martial- 
spirited  men,  as  the  Netherlands,  Portugal,  Little  P>re- 
tagne,  and  Ireland  can  testify.'3  William,  John, 
Thomas,  Henry,  Maximilian,  and  Edward,  are  all  rep- 
resented on  the  tomb,  probably  actual  likenesses.  All, 
except  John4  and  Edward,  fell  in  battle.  John  died 
of  vexation  at  losing  the  Lord  Lieutenancy  of  Ireland, 

1  Fuller's  Worthies,  iii.  1C,  17.  But  rather  from  the  Xorris  crest,  a 
raven. 

-  Dart,  ii.  7.  —  Neale  (ii.  198)  says  that  he  was  interred  here  His 
daughter  and  sole  heiress,  Eli/abeth,  is  buried  in  St.  Nicholas's  Chapel. 
(Register,  November  28,  1645.) 

3  Catnden,  in  Neale,  ii.  195. 

4  See  Froude,  xi.  108,  128,  184. 


270  THE   MONUMENTS 

and  the  Queen,  to  whose  hardness  he  owed  his  neglect, 
John  Norris.  repaired  the  wrong  too  late,  by  one  of  those 
stately  letters,  which  she  only  could  write, 
consoling  'my  own  crow'  for  the  loss  of  her  son.1 
'  Though  nothing  more  consolatory  and  pathetical 
could  be  written  from  a  Prince,  yet  the  death  of  the 
son  went  so  near  the  heart  of  the  Earl,  his  ancient 
E.iward  father,  that  he  died  soon  after.'  Edward 
xoms,  1604.  ajone  survived  his  father  and  brothers;  and, 
accordingly,  he  alone  is  represented,  not,  as  the  others, 
in  an  attitude  of  prayer,  but  looking  cheerfully  up- 
wards. '  They  were  men  of  haughty  courage,  and  of 
great  experience  in  the  conduct  of  military  affairs ;  and, 
to  speak  in  the  character  of  their  merit,  they  were 
persons  of  such  renown  and  worth,  as  future  time 
must,  out  of  duty,  owe  them  the  debt  of  honourable 
memory.' 2  That  honourable  memory  has  long  ago  per- 
ished from  the  minds  of  men ;  but  still,  as  preserved  in 
this  monument,3  it  well  closes  the  glories  of  the  Eliza- 
bethan court  and  camp  in  the  Abbey.4 

One  other  monument  of  the  wars  of  those  times, 
though  of  a  comparatively  unknown  warrior,  and  lo- 
cated in  what  must  then  have  been  an  obscure  and 
solitary  place  in  the  South  Aisle  of  the  Choir,  carries 
us  to  a  wider  field.  '  To  the  glory  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts,5 

1  Fuller's  Worthies,  iii.  8,  who  gives  the  letter. 

2  Caraclen,  in  Neale,  ii.  199. 

3  From  this  monument  the  Chapel  was  called,  in  the  next  century 
(see  Register,  Aug.  16,  1722;  Aug.  8,  Oct.  24, 1725), 'Norris's  Chapel ; 
as  now,  for  a  like  reason,  the  '  Nightingale  Chapel.' 

4  Here  also  lie  Sir  John  Burrough,  Governor  of  the  Netherlands 
under  Lord  Essex;  and  Henry  Noel  (1596),  gentleman  pensioner  to 
the  Queen,  and  buried  here  by  her  particular  directions,  for  '  his  gentile 
address  and  skill  in  music.'     (Dart,  ii.  7.) 

5  Is  it  an  accidental  coincidence,  or  an  indication    of   Macanlay's 
exact  knowledge,  that  the  Lay  of  the  contemporary  '  Battle  of  Ivry ' 


OF   THE   COURT  OF  JAMES   I.  271 

here  resteth  Sir  Richard  Bingham,  Knight,  who  fought 
not  only  in  Scotland  and  Ireland,  but  in  the  Sir  RU.hiird 
Isle  of  Candy  under  the  Venetians,  at  Cabo  S^a 
Chrio,  and  the   famous  Battaile  of   Lepanto  '°' 
against  the  Turks  ;  in  the  civil  wars  of  France  ;  in  the 
Netherlands,   and   at   Smerwich,1  where   the   Romans 
and  Irish  were  vanquished.' 

Not  far  off  is  the  monument  of  William  Thynne, 
coeval  with  the  rise  of  the  great  house  of  which  his 
brother  was  the  founder  ;  and  by  his  long  life  Williiim 
covering  the  whole  Tudor  dynasty,  from  the  J^jJarch 
reign  of  Henry  VII.,  when  he  travelled  over  13>  lj 
the  yet  united  Europe,  through  the  wars  of  Henry  VIII., 
when  he  fought  against  the  Scots  at  Musselburgh,  to 
the  middle  of  Elizabeth's  reign,  when  he  '  gently  fell 
asleep  in  the  Lord.' 

The  descent  from  the  Court  of  Elizabeth  to  that  of 
James  I.  is  well  indicated  by  the  change  of  interest  in 
the  monuments.     They  are  not  deficient  in  a  (.(M.RT  or 
certain  grandeur,  but  it  is  derived  rather  from  JAMI;S  ' 
the  fame  of  the  families  than  of  the  individuals.     Such 
are   the  monuments    of   Lady  Catherine   St.  Lady 
John  (once  in  St.  Michael's,  now  in  St.  Nich-  st.  .idim. 
olas's  Chapel),  of  the  Fanes,  of  the   Talbots,  T;in>»ts, 

HUT; 

and  of   the   Hattons,  in  the  Chapels   of  St.  H.-ntons, 

1  liil'.i  ;  Car- 


. 

St.  Edmund,  and  St.  Erasmus  ;   of  i<=t<>D,  K;:;I. 
Dudley  Carleton,2  the  ambassador  in  Spain,  in  St.  Paul's 
Chapel.     He  it  was  who,  on  his  return  from  Spain, 


commences  with  tlio  like  strain?     Compare  Fnmde,  xi.  237.     Yore's 
motto  is  also  !)<•<>  I'.ri'mtinn. 

1  For  Bingham'a  exploits  at  Smerwii-li  in  Dingle  Hay,  sec  Frotule, 
xi.  aw-a-'j.1). 

2  Stone  received  for  this  monument  .£200.     (Walpole's  Anecdotes' 
\\.  62.) 


272  THE  MONUMENTS 

'  found  the  King  at  Theobald's,  hunting  in  a  very  care- 
less and  unguarded  manner,  and  upon  that,  in  order  to 
the  putting  him  on  a  more  careful  looking  to  himself, 
he  told  the  King  he  must  either  give  over  that  way  of 
hunting,  or  stop  another  hunting  that  he  was  engaged 
in,  which  was  priest-hunting ;  for  he  had  intelligence 
in  Spain  that  .  .  .  Queen  Elizabeth  \vas  a  woman  of 
power,  and  was  always  so  well  attended  that  all  their 
plots  against  her  failed ;  but  a  Prince  wrho  was  always 
in  woods  and  forests  could  be  easily  overtaken.  The 
advice,  however,  wrought  otherwise  than  he  had  in- 
tended, for  the  King  continued  to  hunt,  and  gave  up 
hunting  the  priests.' l  The  two  greatest  men  who 
passed  away  in  James  I.'s  reign  rest  far  off — Bacon  in 
his  own  Verulam,  Shakspeare  in  his  own  Stratford. 
One  inferior  to  these,  yet  the  last  relic  of  the  age  of 
Elizabethan  adventure,  has  left  his  traces  close  by. 
The  Gatehouse  of  Westminster  was  the  prison,  St. 
Margaret's  Church  the  last  resting-place,  of  Sir  Walter 
llalegh.2  A  companion  of  his  daring  expedition  to 
Eayal  rests,  without  a  memorial,  in  St.  Edmund's 
Lord  Fer-  Chapel  —  Lord  Hervey,  who  had  greatly  dis- 
tinguished himself  at  the  time  of  the  Spanish 
Armada,  and  afterwards  in  Ireland.3 

One  stately  monument  of  this  epoch  is  remarkable 
from  its  position.  In  the  southern  side  of  the  central 
Lewis  aisle  of  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel  was  buried 

Stuart,  Duke  .  J 

of  Rich-        Ludovic    Stuart,    Duke    of    Richmond    and 

inoiid,  died 

Feb.  16,        Lennox,  cousin  to  James  I.  (who  had  been 

1(3-23-4  ;  bur- 
ied Feb.  17.    his    one   confidential    companion    in    the    ex- 
pedition  to   Gowrie   House),    Lord  Chamberlain,   and 

1  Burnet's  Own  Time,  i.  12.  2  See  Chapter  V. 

3  Register.  The  facts  from  Camden  and  Dugdale  are  communi- 
cated by  the  kindness  of  Lord  Arthur  Hervey. 


OF  THE   COURT  OF  JAMES  I.  273 

Lord  High  Admiral  of   Scotland.1     The  funeral  cere- 
mony took  place  two  months  after  his  burial,  Duchess 
perhaps  from  his  having  died   of  the  '  spot-  monu,  1039. 
ted   aeaie.'2      His    widow,3   who    raised    the  Cliarles 

Lennox,  son 

monument,   and,  with   the   exception   of  his  "fll!e 

lJucJiess  of 

brother  Esme,4  all  the  Lennox  family,  were  ^'{^J'.,0"^' 
laid  beside  him,  including  the  natural  son  of  I"1,1.1;,1' June 

t )  1 1  _o. 

Charles  II.,  to  whom  his  father  transferred  the  Esn.e  Len- 
name  and  titles  of  the  great  family  then  iust  T, 

J  Duchess  of 

extinct.     The  heart  of  Esme,  its  last  lineal  R'i-i>iiiona, 

buried  Oct. 

descendant,  was  placed  in  an  urn  at  the  feet  --• 17U2- 
of  his  ancestors,  after  the  Eestoration ;  and  in  the  vault 
lies  the  beautiful  Duchess  of  Richmond,  widow  of  the 
last  of  the  race,  ancestress  of  the  Stuarts  of  LUantyre, 
whose  effigy  was,  by  her  own  special  request,  placed 

1  Epitaph.  2  Sam.  iii.  38:  — 

CHROXOG8'    AX    iGXORAXls:    Q.VIA    PRlxCEPS    EX   V!R    MAGNVs   OBlIx 

HODlE. 

The  elongated  letters  are  all  the  Roman  numerals.  If  tliev  are  ex- 
tracted, and  placed  according  to  their  value,  they  give  (as  pointed  out 
to  me  by  Mr.  Poole,  the  master-mason  of  the  Abbey)  the  date  of  the 
year : — 

M.    DC.    VVV.    IIIIIIII.,  i.  e.  1000  +  600  +  15  +  8  =  1623. 

For  other  like  chronograms  see  Pettigrew's  Epitaphs,  163,  164. 
-  State  Paper  Office,  1624. 

3  She  requested  Charles  I.'s  intervention  for  the  removal   of   the 
stone  partition  of  the  Chapel '  wherein  is  a  door  and  corridors,  and  for 
the  erection  of  an  iron  grate  in  lieu  thereof.'     The  king,  'though  rcadv 
to  do  anything  that  may  add  to  the  honour  of  the  duke,  was  careful 
not  to  command  anything  that  may  give  :in  injnrv  and  blemish  to  the 
strength  and  security  of  that  Chapel,'  and  therefore  referred  the  matter 
to  the  Dean  and  Chapter,  and  they  apparently  objected,  as  the  partition 
still  remains.     (State  Paper  Office,  1628.)     The  tomb  has  been  splen- 
didly restored  at  the  cost  of  the  present  representative  of  the  familv, 
the  Earl  of  Darnley. 

4  He,  in  1624,  with  much  pomp,  equal  to  that  of  the  funeral  of  Anne 
of  Denmark,  was  buried  in  the  vault  of  his  grandmother,  Lady  Mar- 
garet.    (See  Chapter  III.) 

VOL.  i.  — 18 


274  THE   MONUMENTS 

close  by  after  her  death,  '  as  well  done  in  wax  as  could 
be,'  '  under  crown-glass  and  none  other,' :  in  the  robes 
she  wore  at  the  coronation  of  Queen  Anne,  and  with  a 
parrot  which  had  '  lived  with  her  Grace  for  forty  years, 
and  survived  her  only  a  few  days.'  The  parrot  confirms 
the  allusion  of  Pope  to  '  the  famous  Duchess,  who 

would 

Die,  and  endow  a  college  or  a  cat.'  - 

The  shadows  of  the  reign  of  Charles  I.  rested  heavily 
on  the  tombs  of  the  next  generation.  First  come  those 
COURT  OF  which  gather  round  the  great  favourite  of  the 

CHARLES  I. 

two    first    Stuart    reigns  —  George    Yilhers, 

The  Villiers 

family.  Duke  of  Buckingham,  '  Steenie.  '  Never  any 
man  in  any  age,  nor,  I  believe,  in  any  country  or  na- 
tion, rose  in  so  short  a  time  to  so  much  greatness  of 
honour,  fame,  and  fortune,  upon  no  other  advantage  or 
recommendation  than  the  beauty  and  gracefulness  of 
his  person.'3  This  tragical  rise  we  trace  both  in  the 
sir  George  tombs  of  his  parents  and  of  himself.  In  the 
viiiieis.iooo.  ciiapei  of  St.  Nicholas  lies  the  Leicestershire 
squire,  Sir  George  Yilliers,  with  his  second  wife,  Mary 
Beaumont,  to  whom,  at  his  own  early  death,  he  left  the 
handsome  boy,  and  by  whose  '  singular  care  and  affec- 
tion the  youth  was  trained  in  those  accomplishments 

1  See  Note  at  the  end  of  the  Chapter. 

-  Pope's  Moral  Essays,  Epistle  iii.  9G,  with  his  own  note  and  Whar- 
ton's  comment  (vol.  iii.  p.  245). 

3  Clarendon,  i.  16.  Westminster  witnessed  a  singular  proof  of  the 
Conrt  affection  and  the  popular  hatred  for  Villiers.  One  of  his  favour- 
ites, Sir  John  Grimes,  had  a  pompous  funeral  in  the  Abbey.  The 
butchers  of  King  Street  buried  a  dog  in  Tothill  Fields  in  ridicule  of  the 
ceremony,  saying,  '  the  soul  of  a  dog  was  as  good  as  that  of  a  Scot.' 
On  that  occasion  the  communion  cloth,  two  copes,  and  Prince  Henry's 
robes,  were  stolen  from  the  Abbey.  (State  Papers,  Domestic,  James  I., 
vol.  Ixxxvi.  No.  132.)  Grimes's  grave  is  unknown. 


OF  THE   COURT  OF   CHARLES   I. 


275 


which  befitted  his  natural  grace.' x  Each  of  the  two 
stately  figures  which  lie  on  that  tomb,  carved  by  the 
hand  of  the  famous  sculptor,  Nicholas  Stone,2  lives  in 


PLAN  OF  THE   BUCKINGHAM  (VILLIF.RS)  VAULT   IX    HENRY   VII. 
CHAPEL. 


No.   1.  is   the  shaped    leaden   coffin   of 

Lord   Francis  Villiers  (U>48).     Under 

it  are  two  other  leaden  coffins  of  the 

common   shape.      The   wooden   cases 

are  wholly  absent.     Over  the  legs  of 

these  is  a  small  leaden  coffin  of  a  child 

Lord  Charles  Villiers  (Hii'U). 
No.  2.  Mary,  Duchess  of  Buckingham, 

(1704). 
No.  3.  Charles  Hamilton,  Earl  of  Selkirk 

(1739). 
No.    4.   Catherine,  Countess  Grandison, 

(1725-6). 

the  pages  of  Clarendon,  as  he  follows  the  fortunes  of 
their  son.     That  stiff'  burly  knight,  in  his  plated  armour 

1  Clarendon,  i.  17. 

2  He  received  .£500  fyr  it.     Walpole's  Anecdotes,  ii.  61. 


No.  5.  General  William  Steuart  (1720). 

No.  G.  A  shaped  leaden  coffin  of  a  child 
(no  inscription). 

[Doubtless (from  the  Register)  Philip 
Feilding,  third  son  to  William  Earl  of 
Denbigh,  buried  Jan.  1!>,  Kii'7-S.] 

No.  7.  A  cubical  chest,  plated  with  an 
Earl's  coronet  and  monogram. 

No.  10.  A  stone  under  the  floor,  remov- 
able to  enter  the  vault. 

No.  11.  The  steps  under  the  stone. 


276  THE   MONUMENTS 

and  trunk  breeches,  is  '  the  man,  of  a  very  venerable 
aspect,'  who  (more  than  twenty  years  after  his  death) 
drew  the  bed-curtains  of  the  officer  of  the  King's  ward- 
robe, at  midnight,  '  and,  fixing  his  eyes  upon  him,  asked 
him  if  he  knew  him ; '  and  when  '  the  poor  man,  half 
dead  with  fear  and  apprehension,'  having  at  last  '  called 
to  his  memory  the  presence  of  Sir  George  Yilliers,  and 
the  very  clothes  he  used  to  wear,  in  which  at  that  time 
he  seemed  to  be  habited,'  answered  '  that  he  thought 
him  to  be  that  person '  —  then  ensued  the  warning, 
thrice  repeated,  and  conveyed  with  difficulty,  to  the 
Duke  his  son,  whose  colour  changed  as  he  heard  it ; 
and  he  swore  that  that  knowledge  could'come  'only  by 
the  Devil,  for  that  those  particulars  were  known  only 
to  himself  and  to  one  person  more,  who  he  was  sure 
countess  of  would  never  speak  of  it.' l  And  that  lady, 
ham,  hurled  with  broad  full  face  and  flowing  ermine 

April  21,  . 

1632.  mantle,  created   Countess  of   Buckingham  in 

her  own  right,  and  professing  to  be  'descended  from 
five  of  the  most  powerful  kings  of  Europe  by  so  many 
direct  descents,'  2  is  the  mother  towards  whom  the  Duke 
'  had  ever  a  most  profound  reverence,'  —  in  whose  be- 
half, when  he  thought  that  she  had  suffered  a  neglect 
from  Henrietta  Maria,  he  came  into  the  Queen's  'cham- 
ber in  much  passion,'  and  told  her  '  she  should  repent 
of  it,'  'and  that  there  had  been  Queens  in  England 
who  had  lost  their  heads.'3  She  it  was  who  warned 
the  Lord-Keeper  (Williams)  'that  St.  David's  (Laud) 
was  the  man  that  did  undermine  him  with  her  son,  and 
would  undermine  any  man,  that  himself  might  rise.' 4 
She  too  it  was  with  whom,  after  the  Duke  had  received 
the  fatal  warning,  he  '  was  shut  up  for  the  space  of  two 

1  Clarendon,  i.  74,  78.  2  Epitaph. 

8  Clarendon,  i.  69.  4  Bacon's  Life,  xvi.  368. 


OF   THE  COURT   OF   CHARLES   I.  277 

or  three  hours,  the  noise  of  their  discourse  frequently 
reaching  the  ears  of  those  who  attended  in  the  next 
rooms :  and  when  the  Duke  left  her,  his  countenance 
appeared  full  of  trouble,  with  a  mixture  of  anger,  never 
before  observed  in  him,  in  any  conversation  with  her ; ' 
and  she,  'at  the  Duke's  leaving  her,  was  found  over- 
whelmed in  tears,  and  in  the  highest  agony  imaginable.' l 
Within  six  months  she  received    the  news  of   the 
Duke's  murder,  and  '  seemed  not  in  the  least  degree 
surprised ; '  but  heard  it  as  if  she  had  foreseen  Geor,re 
it,  '  nor  did  afterwards  express  such  a  degree  ™£l™'{ 
of  sorrow  as  was  expected  from  such  a  mother  h™mkdwd 
for  the  loss  of  such  a  son.'  2     But  the  thrill  of  burLfsept. 
that  fall,  at  least  in  the  royal  circle,    '  the  is' 1C2a 
lively  regret,  such  as  never  Prince  had  expressed  for 
the  loss  of  a  servant,'  after  his  first  cold  reception  of 
the  news  had  passed  away,  are  well  repre- 

-  •  z  His  tomb. 

sented  in  his  tomb  6  in  the  north  side  of  the 

1  Clarendon,  i.  78,  79.  —  In  her  grave  were  interred  two  grand- 
daughters and  two  great-grandsons  of  the  Feilding  family.  William, 
Earl  of  Denbigh,  had  married  her  daughter.  (Burial  Register,  1638, 
1640,  1641.)  On  opening  the  vault  in  1878  there  was  found  on  the 
plate  of  her  coffin  the  following  inscription  :  —  <%•  I.  H.  S.  REPERTOR 

QUISQUIS      ES,      LAMIXA      HtTIC       LOCULO       IXFIXA       QL'AM      HOSPITKM 

LIGXEUS  HAHEAT  PATOIS  TE  EDocTUM  voLO.  [Then  follows  a  de- 
scription of  her,  resembling  her  epitaph.]  XATA  ERAT  IPSIS  CALEXDIS 

MAII,  SEI)  DIES  II.LI  MA  CHS  PROPRIE  XATALIS  ERAT  IDEM  (JIT  I 
SAXCTIS  DEI,  DIE  SCILICET  IX  QUO  HAS  SPAS  TERREXAS  STPKlt- 

IXDUVIAS     FELICITER     POSIT  IT,    AXXO    JET  :     Sl'.E    LXII. XIX.    APIMI.. 

—  KERIA  QUIXTA  A.I).  MDCXXXII.  IIAEC  A  ME.  EDOCTUS  Alii  IX- 
STRUCTIOR  ET  AVE  MARIA  PITAS  I'XUM.  It  SCeillS  to  imply  the 

Roman  Catholic  belief  either  of  the  Countess  or  her  survivors,  and  is 
curious  in  connection  with  Laud.  Possibly  it  even  hints  at  the  Abbey 
falling  into  the  hands  of  the  Roman  Catholics.  An  imperfect  copy  of 
this  inscription  was  made  in  the  Burial  Register,  on  opening  the  vault 
in  1719.  2  Clarendon,  i.  79. 

3  He  hfid  alreadv  designed  the  place  fur  his  family.  His  son  Charles 
Marquis  Buckingham,  Earl  of  Coventry,  was  buried  March  17,  1626-7. 


278  THE  MONUMENTS 

central  aisle  of  Henry  YII.'s  Chapel  —  the  first  intru- 
sion of  any  person  not  of  royal  lineage  into  that  mauso- 
leum of  Princes.  No  higher  place  could  well  be  given  ; 
and  though  the  popular  distrust  was  so  strong  as  to 
curtail  the  funeral  itself  within  the  smallest  possible 
dimensions,1  the  deep  sensation  in  his  own  circle  is 
iiismonu.  shown  by  the  inscription  on  his  coffin,  which 
mi-lit,  i«33.  recorcis  }1OW  he  had  been  the '  singular  favour- 
ite of  two  Kings,  and  was  cut  off  by  a  nefarious  parri- 
cide,' 2  and  yet  more  by  the  elaborate  monument  erected 
by  his  widow,  and  completed  in  1633.  We  seem  to  be 
present  in  the  Court  of  Charles  as  we  look  at  its  fan- 
tastic ornaments  ('  Fame  even  bursting  herself,  and 
trumpets  to  tell  the  news  of  his  so  sudden  fall')  and 
its  pompous  inscriptions,  calling  each  State  in  Europe 
severally  to  attest  the  several  virtues  of  this  '  Enigma 
of  the  "\Vorld.'  It  corresponds  to  the  blasphemous 
comparison  in  which  the  grave  Sir  Edward  Coke 
likened  him  to  Our  Saviour,  and  to  Clarendon's  more 
measured  verdict  on  that  '  ascent  so  quick,  that  it 
seemed  rather  a  flight  than  a  growth  ; '  '  such  a  darling 
of  fortune,  that  he  was  at  the  top  before  he  was  well 
seen  at  the  bottom  :  his  ambition  rather  found  at  last 
than  brought  there,  as  if  a  garment  necessary  for  that 
air  ;  no  more  in  his  power  to  be  without  promotion,  and 
titles,  and  wealth,  than  for  a  healthy  man  to  sit  in  the 

'  in  a  little  chapel  on  the  north  side  of  King  Henry  VII.'s  monument ; ' 
and  on  Jan.  19,  1627-8,  his  nephew,  Philip  Feilding,  the  third  son  to 
William  Earl  of  Denbigh,  by  the  Duke's  sister.  (Kegister.)  See 
Appendix.  His  wife,  Lady  Catherine  Manners,  whose  effigy  lies  by 
his  side,  is  not  buried  here  : 

1  When  Manners'  name  with  Villiers'  joined  I  see, 
How  do  I  reverence  your  nobility.' 

(Cowley.) 

1  Keepe,  p.  101.  2  See  Appendix- 


OF   THE   COURT  OF   CHARLES  L  279 

sun  in  the  brightest  dogdays,  and  remain  without  any 
warmth.' 1 

There  is  a  lesser  interest  attaching  to  the  tomb,  as 
indicating  the  ecclesiastical  tastes  and  sentiments  of 
that  age.  He,  the  friend  of  Laud,  the  pillar  of  the 
High  Church  party,  nevertheless  from  his  tomb  asserts 
and  reasserts  his  claim  to  the  name  —  in  our  own  time 
by  their  followers  so  vehemently  repudiated  —  of  '  Pro- 
testant ; '  and  the  allegorical  figures  are  the  first  wanton 
intruders  into  the  imagery  (now  so  clear  to  the  school 
of  Laud)  which  adorns  that  ancient  Chapel. 

Within  the  same  vault  (if  we  may  thus  far  anticipate 
the  course  of  history)  repose  in  two  coffins,  placed  upon 
and  beneath  that  of  the  murdered  Duke,  his  two  sons, 
George  and  Francis,  who  appear  as  blooming  boys  side 
by  side  on  their  father's  monument  above,  as  they  do 
in  Vandyke's  famous  picture  at  Windsor.  Lord  Francis 

Villiers,  died 

Francis,  born  after  his  father  s  death,  was  the  J"i.y7, 

buried  July 

first  to  follow,  '  a  youth  of  rare  beauty  and  10. 1(i4a 
comeliness  2  of  person,'  who  fell  at  the  battle  of  Kings- 
ton, which  had  been  precipitated  by  his  own  and  his 
brother's   rashness.      His    body    was    '  brought    from 
thence   by  water  to    York  Place,  in  the  Strand,  and 
deposited  in  his  father's  vault  in  the  Abbey,  with  an 
inscription,    which    it    is    pity  should    be    buried  with 
him.'3     The  coffin  of  Francis,  with  that  of  his  (> 
brother  Charles,  is  placed  above   his   father's  ^!,!. 
remains.     Beneath  them  lies  the  last  surviving  5',!,, 
successor  in  the  dukedom,  George  Villiers,  the  bur  li  June 
profligate  courtier  of  Charles  II.  —  the  '  Zimri '  '' 1(i>1' 
of  Dryden,  the  rival  of  '  Peveril  of  the   Peak  ;  '  where 

1  Clarendon,  i.  61,  62.  -  Clarendon,  vi.  96. 

3  Bryan  Fairfax's  Lij'c  of  t/if  f>nlci'  <>f  Buckingham,  \>.  '24.  The  in- 
scription which  Fairfax  gives  is  almost  exactly  the  same  as  that  found 


280  THE  MONUMENTS 

Pope's  famous  though  fictitious  description  of  his  miser- 
able deathbed  is  recalled  to  us,  as  on  the  decayed  coffin- 
plate  we  dimly  trace  the  record  of  his  George  and 
Garter —  '  Periseelidis  cqucs.' 1 

Two  other  magnates  of  that  age  rest  in  the  Abbey, 
who  must  have  regarded  the  fall  of  Buckingham  with 
feelings  somewhat  different  from  those  of  Charles  and 
Laud.  In  the  Chapel  of  St.  Benedict,  second  of  the 
secular  monuments  which  fill  its  narrow  space,  and 
similar  to  that  of  Buckingham's  parents,  is  the  tomb  of 
Lord  Middlesex,  erected  to  him  by  his  wife,  who  rests 
by  his  side,  in  '  the  calm  haven  which  he  has  reached 
after  the  stormy  voyage  of  his  long  life.'  2  Lionel  Cran- 
field,  '  though  extracted  from  a  gentleman's  family,  had 
been  bred  in  the  City,  and,  being  a  man  of  great  wit 
oanfieid  anc^  understanding  in  all  the  mysteries  of 
Middlesex,  trade,  had  found  means  to  work  himself  into 
the  favour  of  the  Duke  of  Buckingham;'3 
and  was  accordingly,  '  with  wonderful  expedition,' 
through  various  lesser  offices,  raised  to  the  highest 
financial  post  of  Lord  High  Treasurer.  As  by  his  busi- 
ness-like habits  he  rose  to  power,  so  by  them  he  was 
led  to  thwart  his  patron's  extravagance ;  and  hence  the 
celebrated  impeachment  by  which  he  fell,  and  which 
called  forth  the  prophetic  remonstrance  of  King  James, 
in  a  scene  which  must  have  suggested  many  a  page  in 
the  '  Fortunes  of  Nigel : ' 

'  By  God,  Stenny  '  [the  King  said  to  the  Duke  in  much 
choler]  '  you  are  a  fool,  and  will  shortly  repent  this  folly,  and 

on  the  coffin  in  1866;  and  records  his  extraordinary  beauty  and  his 
nine  wounds. 

1  See  Appendix.  2  Epitaph. 

3  Clarendon,  i.  39.  —  He  was  owner  of  Kuole,  where  his  portrait 
gtill  exists. 


OF  THE   COURT  OF   CHARLES   I.  281 

•will  find  that,  in  this  fit  of  popularity,  you  are  making  a  rod, 
with  which  you  will  be  scourged  yourself ! '  And  turning  in 
some  anger  to  the  Prince,  told  him,  '  That  he  would  live  to 
have  his  belly  full  of  Parliament  impeachments  :  and  when  I 
shall  be  dead,  you  will  have  too  much  cause  to  remember 
ho\v  much  you  have  contributed  to  the  weakening  of  the 
crown.' l 

On  the  other  side  of  the  Abbey,  in  St.  Paul's  Chapel, 
is  Sir  Francis  (afterwards  Lord)  Cottington.2     Look  at 
his  face,  as  he  lifts  himself   up  on    his  elbow ;    and 
read  Clarendon's  description  of  his  interviews  Lord  c<>t- 
with  Buckingham,  with  James  I.,  with  Laud,  low. 
and  with  Charles  II.,  and  think  of  the  quaint  caustic 
humour  which  he   must  have  diffused  through   those 
three  strange  English  reigns,  and  of  the  Spanish  Court, 
in  which  he  spent  his  early  youth  and  his   extreme 
age:  — 

A  very  wise  man,  by  the  great  and  long  experience  he  had 
in  business  of  all  kinds  ;  and  by  his  natural  temper,  which 
was  not  liable  to  any  transport  of  anger,  or  any  other  passion, 
but  could  bear  contradiction,  and  even  reproach,  without 
being  moved,  or  put  out  of  his  way  ;  for  he  was  very  steady 
in  pursuing  what  lie  proposed  to  himself,  and  had  a  courage 
not  to  be  frighted  with  any  opposition.  .  .  .  He  was  of 
an  excellent  humour  and  very  easy  to  live  with  :  and,  under 
a  grave  countenance,  covered  the  most  of  mirth,  and  caused 
more  than  any  man  of  the  most  pleasant  disposition.  He  never 
used  anybody  ill,  but  used  many  very  well  for  whom  he  had 
no  regard  :  his  greatest  fault  was,  that  he  could  dissemble, 

1  Clarendon,  i.  41. 

2  The  upper  part  of  the  tomb  was  erected,  during  his  lifetime,  to 
the  memory  of  his  wife  (16.33),  whose  bust  is  the  work  of  Hubert  le 
Sueur.     The  lower  part  is  by  '  the  one-eyed  Italian  Fanelli.'  —  Calen- 
dars of  State  Papers  (Domestic),  1034,  Preface,  p.  xlii. 


282 


THE  MONUMENTS 


°Couutess   of  Hertford 


||  Abbot 
0  Curtlington 


N 


fe;      ^ 

""5      ^ 

f?     O 


\\  Alp.  Spottiswoode 


w. 


CHAPEL  OF   ST.   BENEDICT. 


OF  THE   COURT  OF   CHARLES  I.  283 

and  make  men  believe  that  he  loved  them  very  well,  when 
he  cared  not  for  them.  He  had  not  very  tender  affections, 
nor  bowels  apt  to  yearn  at  all  objects  which  deserved  com- 
passion ;  he  was  heartily  weary  of  the  world,  and  no  man 
was  more  willing  to  die ;  which  is  an  argument  that  he  had 
peace  of  conscience.  He  left  behind  him  a  greater  esteem  of 
his  parts  than  love  to  his  person.1 

When  Charles  I.  wished  to  employ  torture  after  the 
death  of  Buckingham,  the  answer  that  it  was  unlawful 
was  conveyed  to  him  by  Sir  Thomas  Richard-  su  Thomas 

Richardson, 

son,  who  was  known  as  the  '  jeering  Lord  it«o. 
Chief  Justice.'  2  When,  on  one  occasion,  he  came  out 
from  being  reprimanded  by  Laud,  he  declared  that 
'  the  lawn-sleeves  had  almost  choked  him.'  When,  on 
another  occasion,  he  condemned  Prynne,  he  said,  '  Let 
him  have  the  Book  of  Martyrs  to  amuse  him.'  3  He 
is  buried  in  the  north  aisle  of  the  Choir,  under  his 
monument. 

The  dragon's  teeth  which  had  been  sown  in  the  lives 
of  the  statesmen  on  whose  graves  we  have  just  trodden, 
bore  their  natural  harvest  in  the  lives  of  those  whose 
graves  we  have  to  tread  immediately  afterwards.    Close 
by   the  tomb   of  his  ancestor,   Lord   Hunsdon,  in  the 
Chapel  of  St.  John,  is  the  tablet  to  Thomas  Tll()llias 
Cary  —  the  one  memorial  in  the  Abbey  which  Ci"'-v>  1034- 
speaks  of  the  death  of  Charles  I.,  whose  attendant  he 
was,  and  whose  monument  represents  him  as  dying  a 

1  Clarendon,  vi.  465,  4G7. —  His  bodv  was  brought  from  Valladolid, 
and,  though  he  died  a  Roman  Catholic,  was  interred  in  the  Abbey. 
The  epitaph  by  his  son  is  twice  inaccurate.     It  was  not  under  Charles 
but  James,  that  his  career  began  in  Spain ;  and  he  died,  not  at  the 
age  of  74,  but  at  77. 

2  See  Evelyn's  Memoirs,  ii.  10. 

3  See  Foss's  Judges,  vi.  359-362. 


'284  THE   MONUMENTS 

second  death  fourteen  years  afterwards,  in  the  year  in 
which  the  execution  of  his  master  took  place.1 

Then  comes  the  period,  which,  more  than  any  other, 
indicates  the  strong  hold  which  the  Abbey  had  laid  on 
THE  MAG-  ^he  mmd  of  the  whole  nation  ;  when  not  even 
NATES  OF  ie  excess  of  Puritan  zeal,  or  the  sternness 


•IHE  COM- 
MONWEALTH 


of  Republican  principles,  could  extinguish  in 
the  statesmen  of  the  Commonwealth  the  longing  to  be 
buried  in  the  Royal  Monastery.2 

Pym,  the  chief  of  the  Parliamentary  leaders,  was  the 
first.  He  died  at  Derby  House,  close  by,  in  Canon 
Pvin  died  Row,  an  official  residence  of  members  of  Par- 
buried  Dec  liament.  Whilst  at  Oxford  there  was  a  'great 

feast,  and  great  preparations  made  for  bonfires 
that  night,  for  that  they  heard  that  Master  Pym  was 
dead,'  the  House  of  Commons,  by  a  respect  hitherto 
without  precedent,  ordered  that  his  body  should  be  '  in- 
terred in  Westminster  Abbey,  without  any  charge  for 
breaking  open  the  ground  there,  and  a  monument  be 
prepared  for  him  at  the  charge  of  the  Commonwealth.' 

The  funeral  of  '  King  Pym,'  as  he  was  called, 

His  funeral.  ., 

was  celebrated,  worthily  of  such  a  name,  with 
'  wonderful  pomp  and  magnificence,  in  that  place  where 
the  bones  of  our  English  kings  and  princes  are  com- 
mitted to  their  rest.'  3  The  body,  followed  by  his  two 
sons,  was  carried  from  Derby  House  on  the  shoulders 
of  the  ten  chief  gentlemen  of  the  House  of  Commons, 
and  was  accompanied  by  both  Houses  cf  Parliament, 
and  by  the  Assembly  of  Divines,  then  sitting  in  the 

1  This  appears  by  comparing  the  date  of  the  plate  on  the  coffin  (dis- 
covered in  1879),  with  the  inflated  inscription  on  the  monument. 

2  Here,  as  elsewhere,  the  graves  of  the  men  of  letters  are  reserved 
for  the  consideration  of  Poets'  Corner. 

3  Clarendon,  iv.  436. 


OF   THE   COMMONWEALTH.  285 

Jerusalem  Chamber.1  He  was  laid  at  the  entrance  of 
the  Chapel  of  St.  John  the  Baptist,  under  the  grave- 
stone of  John  Windsor.  The  funeral  sermon  was 
preached  by  Stephen  Marshall,  on  the  words  (Micah 
vii.  1,2)'  Woe  is  me  !  for  the  good  man  is  perished  out 
of  the  earth.'  The  grand  stickler  for  Parliamentary 
usage  was  buried  in  a  grand  Parliamentary  fashion : 

None  can  completely  Pym  lament, 
But  something  like  a  Parliament, 
The  public  sorrow  of  a  State 
Is  but  a  brief  commensurate  ; 
We  must  enacted  passions  have, 
And  laws  for  weeping  at  his  grave.2 

Pym's  grave  became  the  point  of  attraction  for  the 
next  few  years.  Close  beside  him  was  laid  Sir  William 
Strode,  with  him  one  of  the  '  Five  members/  sir  waiiam 

Strode. 

and  '  from  his  fury '   known  as   '  the  Parlia-  Bobert 
ment  driver.'     Within  the  chapel  lies  Robert  K^iT"1*' 
Devereux,  Earl  of  Essex,   the  Parliamentary  IfurfedOct 
general.     The  critical  moment  of  his  death,  "' 1040' 
and  his   position   as   a  possible   mediator  between  the, 
contending  parties,  gave  a  peculiar  importance  to  his 
funeral.     It  was  made  by  the  Independents  '  a  golden 
bridge  for  a  departing  enemy.'     The  dead  heroes  of  the 
Abbey  were  called  to  greet  his  approach  : 

How  the  ghosts  throng  to  see  their  great  new  guest  — 
Talhot,  Vc-rc,  Norris,  Williams  and  the  rest ! 

The  sermon  was  preached  by  the  Presbyterian  minister, 
Dr.  Vines,  who  compared  him  to  Abner.  Its  title  was 
taken  from  '  the  hearse,'  which  was  unusually  splendid, 
and  was  placed  '  where  the  Communion  Table  stood.' 

1  Sec  Chapter  VI. 

2  ^fercur^Hs  Britannicus,  quoted  in  Forstcr's  Statesmen,  ii.  299,  from 
which  the  above  details  are  taken. 


286  THE   MONUMENTS 

But  in  the  night,  by  some  '  rude  vindictive  fellows  who 
got  into  the  church,'  variously  suspected  to  be  Cavaliers, 
or  Independents,  the  head  of  the  effigy  was  broken,  the 
buff  coat  which  he  had  worn  at  Edgehill  was  slit,  the 
scarlet  breeches  were  cut,  the  white  boots  slashed,  and 
the  sword  taken  away.1  The  same  rough  hands,  in 
passing,  defaced  the  monument  of  Camden.  In  conse- 
quence the  hearse  was  removed,  and,  as  the  peculiar 
feeling  of  the  moment  passed,2  there  \vas  no  fulfilment 
of  the  intention  of  moving  the  body  to  a  grander  situ- 
ation, in  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel,  where  (said  the  preacher) 
there  '  should  be  such  a  squadron-monument,  as  will 
have  no  brother  in  England,  till  the  time  do  come  (and 
I  wish  it  may  be  long  first)  that  the  renowned  and 
most  excellent  champion  that  now  governs  the  sword 
of  England  shall  lay  his  bones  by  him.'  3 

This  wish,  thus  early  expressed  for  Cromwell,  was,  as 
we  have  seen,  realised ;  and  to  that  royal  burial-place, 
as  if  in  preparation,  the  Parliamentary  funerals  hence- 
Popiiam,  forth  converged.  In  St.  John's  Chapel,4  in- 
1051.  *  '  deed,  with  Strode  and  Essex,  was  laid  the 
fierce  Independent,  Edward  Popham,  distinguished  both 

1  In  Dulwich  Gallery  there  was  long  possessed  a  portrait  of  'the 
old  man  who  demolished  with  aii  axe  the  monument  of  the  Earl  of 
Essex,  in  Westminster  Abbey.' 

2  His  grave  was  in  St.  John's  Chapel,  by  the  right  side  of  the  Enrl 
of  Exeter's  monument  (Register),  in  a  vault  occupied  by  an  Abbot, 
whose  crozier  was  still  perfect.     (Perfect  delation  of  Essex's  Funeral.) 
In  1879,  after  a  long  search,  the  coffin  of   Essex  was  discovered  as 
indicated.     The  fragment  of  the  crozier  was  still  thei'e.     (Camden.) 
This   disposes   of   the   various   conjectures   in   Neale,    ii.    185.      (See 
Chapter  V.) 

3  These  particulars  are  taken  from  the  Funeral  Sermon,  the  Elegy, 
the  Proi/ramme  of  the  Funeral,  the  Perfect  Relation,  and    the   Life  of 
Essex,  all  published  at  the  time.     See  also  Heath's  Chronicle,  p.  125, 
who  mistakes  the  position  of  the  hearse. 

*  Dart,  ii.  145;  Kennett,  p.  537. 


OF    THE   COMMONWEALTH.  287 

by  sea  and  land.     But  in  Henry  YII.'s  Chapel,  at  the 
head   of   Elizabeth's    tomb,   was  magnificently   buried 
the  learned  Isaac  Dorislaus,  advocate  at  the  Isaao 
King's  trial.     Under  the  Commonwealth  he  f^'uune 
was  ambassador  at  the  Hague,  where  he  was  14>  104!>' 
assassinated  '  one  evening,  by  certain  highflying  Royal- 
ist cut-throats,  Scotch  most  of  them  ;  a  man  of  heavy, 
deep-wrinkled,  elephantine  countenance,  pressed  down 
with  the  labours  of  life  and  law.     The  good  ugly  man 
here  found  his  quietus.' l 

In  the  same  vault  probably  which  contained  the 
Protector  and  his  family  was  deposited  Ireton,  his  son- 
in-law,  with  an  honour  the  more  remarkable,  iieton,  died 
from  the  circumstance  that  his  death  took  icooTbm-ied 

,       ^  March  Ci, 

place  at  a  distance.  His  body  was  brought  from  leso-i. 
Limerick,  where  he  had  died  of  the  plague  in  the  camp, 
and  lay  in  state  at  Somerset  House,2  with  the  hatch- 
ment bearing  the  motto,  Didcc  ct  decorum  cst  pro  paf/'ia 
•inori,  which  the  Cavaliers  interpreted,  '  It  is  good  for 
his  country  that  he  should  die.'  3  Evelyn  watched  the 
procession  pass  '  in  a  very  solemn  manner.'  Cromwell 
was  chief  mourner.4  His  obsequies  were  honoured  by 
a  sermon  from  the  celebrated  Puritan  Dean  of  Christ- 
church,  John  Owen,  on  the  '  Labouring  Saint's  Dis- 
mission to  rest.'5  He  must  have  been  no  common 
man  to  have  evoked  so  grave  and  pathetic  an  eulogy: 
'  The  name  of  God  was  as  land  in  every  storm,  in  the 

1  Carlyle's  Cromwnll,  i.  -311  ;   Kcnuctt's  Kri/iatc-r,  p.  5.30. 

-  Noble,  i.  (>-3. —  A  magniloquent  o]>it:v|>li,  printed  ;it  the  expense 
of  Hugh  Peters,  was  found  amongst  the  pnpers  of  a  descendant  of 
Ireton's,  in  which  his  victories  are  described  as  so  wonderful,  '  nt  di.r.'s- 
st-s  Drum  jiro  Iretono  militasse,  Iretonum  jiro  D<o.'  (C'rull,  Appendix, 
p.  28.) 

8  Dart,  ii.  14.3.  <  Evelyn,  ii.  48. 

f  Owen's  \\'urks,  xv,  452. 


288  THE   MONUMENTS 

discovery  whereof  lie  had  as  happy  an  eye,  at  the  great 
est  seeming  distance,  when  the  clouds  were  blackest  and 
the  waves  were  highest,  as  any.' 1 

Next  followed  Colonel  Deane,  the  companion  of  Pop- 

Deane   June    ^1{lm    alK^    ^lake  5    Colonel    Mackworth,    O116    of 

M-i(-kworth    Cromwell's  Council ;  Sir  William  Constable, 

io54  ~'°con-    an-d  near  t°  him  General  Worsley,2  '  Oliver's 

*nllui55  "ne   great  and  rising  favourite,'  who  had  charge  of 

June1!-!,'       the  Speaker's  mace  when  '  that  bauble '  was 

taken  from  the  table  of  the  Long  Parliament. 

After  that,  'in  a  vault  built  for  the  purpose,'3  was 

Biake,          laid  the  first  of  our  naval  heroes,  whose  name 

buned  i6a7.*  nag  |)een  |:]lollg}1^  Worthy,  in  the  most  stirring 

of  our  maritime  war-songs,5  to  be  placed  by  the  side  of 
Nelson. 

Blake  [says  a  gieat  but  unwilling  witness  6]  was  the  first 
man  that  declined  the  old  track,  and  made  it  manifest  that 
the  science  might  be  attained  in  less  time  than  was  im- 
agined;  and  despised  those  rules  which  had  been  long  in 
practice,  to  keep  his  ship  and  his  men  out  of  danger ;  which 
had  been  held  in  former  times  a  point  of  great  ability  and 
circumspection,  as  if  the  principal  art  requisite  in  the  captain 
of  a  ship  had  been  to  be  sure  to  come  home  safe  again.  He 
was  the  first  man  who  brought  the  ships  to  contemn  castles 

1  Owen's  Works,  xv.  458. 

2  Heath's  Chronicle,  p.  .381.     History  of  Birch  Chapel  in  Manchester 
Parish,  pp.  39-51,  by  the   Rev.  J.  Booker.     There  is  no  entry  of  his 
burial  in  the  Register.     He  died  in  St.  James's  Palace  (Thurloe  State 
Papers,  v.  p.  122),  where,  in  the  Chapel  Royal,  two  of  his  children 
were  buried. 

3  Campbell's  Lives  of  the  Admiral*,  p.  128. 

4  His  death  is  variously  reported  Aug.  14,  17,  27,  but  his  will  was 
proved  Aug.  20.     His  funeral  was  arranged  ou  the  model  of  that  of 
Colonel  Deane. 

&  Where  Blake  and  mighty  Nelson  fell, 

Your  manly  hearts  shall  glow. 
6  Clarendon,  vii.  213,  215-217. 


OF  THE  COMMONWEALTH.  289 

on  shore,  which  had  been  thought  ever  very  formidable,  and 
were  discovered  by  him  to  make  a  noise  only,  and  to  fright 
those  who  could  rarely  be  hurt  by  them.  He  was  the  first 
that  infused  that  proportion  of  courage  into  the  seamen,  by 
making  them  see  by  experience  what  mighty  things  they 
could  do  if  they  were  resolved ;  and  taught  them  to  fight  in 
fire  as  well  as  upon  water ;  and,  though  he  hath  been  very 
well  imitated  and  followed,  he  was  the  first  that  gave  the 
example  of  that  kind  of  naval  courage  and  bold  and  resolute 
achievements. 

It  was  after  his  last  action  with  the  Spaniards  — 
'which,  with  all  its  circumstances,  was  very  wonder- 
ful, and  will  never  be  forgotten  in  Spain  and  the 
Canaries'  —  that  Blake  on  his  return  'sickened,  and 
in  the  very  entrance  of  the  fleet  into  the  Sound  of 
Plymouth,  expired.' 

He  wanted  no  pomp  of  funeral  when  he  was  dead,  Crom- 
well causing  him  to  be  brought  up  by  land  to  London  in  all 
the  state  that  could  be ;  and  to  encourage  his  offi-  Blake's 
cers  to   venture   their  lives,  that   they  might  be  fl 
pompously  buried,  he  was,  with  all  the  solemnity  possible, 
and   at   the    charge    of  the    public,   interred    in    Harry   the 
Seventh's  Chapel,  among  the  monuments  of  the  Kings.1 

This  is  the  first  distinct  claim  of  a  burial  in  West- 
minster Abbey  as  an  incentive  to  heroic  achievements, 
and  it  came  well  through  the  ruler  from  whose  reign 
'  the  maritime  glory  of  the  Empire  may  first  be  traced 
in  a  track  of  continuous  light.'  2 

Four  days  before  Cromwell,  died  Denis  Bond,  of  the 
Council,  in  the  beginning  of  that  terrific  storm  which 

1  Clarendon,  vii.  215.  —  Tlis  dear  friend,  General  Lambert,  rode  in 
the  procession  from  the  landing  place.     (Campbell's  Admirals,  ii.  126.) 

2  Hallam's  Const.  Hist.  ii.  356. 
VOL.  i.  — 19 


290  THE  MONUMENTS 

caused  the  report  that  the  Devil  was  coming,  and  that 
Cromwell,  not  being  prepared,  had  given  bond  for  his 
appearance,1  and  he  was  probably  interred  in  Henry 
VIL's  Chapel.2 

Last  of  all  came  Bradshaw,  who  died  in  the  short 
interval  of  Richard  Cromwell's  Protectorate,  and  was 
Bradshaw,  interred  from  the  Deanery,  which  had  been 
NOV.  2, 1659.  assigne(i  to  hirn  as  Lord-President  of  the  High 

Court  of  Justice.3  He  was  laid,  doubtless,  in  the  same 
vault  as  his  wife,4  'in  a  superb  tomb  amongst  the 
kings.'5  The  funeral  sermon  was  preached  by  his 
favourite  Independent  pastor,  Howe,  on  Isaiah  Ivii.  1. 

All  these  were  disinterred  at  the  Restoration.  The 
fate  of  Cromwell's  remains,  which  was  shared  equally 
by  those  of  Bradshaw  and  Ireton,  we  have  already 
Disinter-  seen.6  For  the  rest,  the  King  sent  an  order 

ment  of  the 

magnates  of   to  the  Dean  of  Westminster,  to  take  up  the 

the  Com- 
monwealth,   bodies  of  all  such  persons  as  had  been  unwar- 

Sept.  12, 

1661  •  rantably  buried  in  Henry  YII.'s  Chapel  or 

the  Abbey,  since  the  year  1641,  and  to  bury  them  in 
some  place  in  the  churchyard  adjacent."  The  order 
was  carried  out  two  days  afterwards.  All  who  were 
thus  designated  —  in  number  twenty-one  —  were  ex- 
humed, and  reinterred  in  a  pit  dug  at  the  back-door 

1  To  these  maybe  added  —  from  the  Register,  and  from  the  Avar- 
rant  in   Nichols's  Collect,  viii.   153  —  (under  the  Choristers'  seats  in 
the  Choir)  Colonel  Boscawen    and    Colonel    Carter    (1C45);  close  to 
Lord  Norris's   tomh,  Colonel  Meldrum  (1644);  on  the  nortli  side  of 
the   Confessor's    Chapel,    Humphrey    Sahvey    (December   20,    1652); 
on   its   south   side,  Thomas    Haselrig    (October  30,   1651);   the   poet 
May.  and  the  preachers  Twiss,  Strong,  and  Marshall  (1646-55).     See 
Chapter  III. 

2  Kennett's  Register,  p.  536.  3  Heath,  p.  430. 

4  See  Nichols's  Collect,  viii.  153.        5  Evelvn,  January  30,  1660-61 

6  See  Chapter  III. 

7  The  warrant  is  given  verbatim  in  Nichols's  Collect,  viii.  153. 


OF   THE   COMMONWEALTH.  291 

of  one  of  the  two  prebendal  houses  l  in  St.  Margaret's 
Churchyard,  which  then  blocked  up  the  north  side  of 
the  Abbey,  between  the  North  Transept  and  the  west 
end.  Isaac  Dorislaus  —  perhaps  from  compunction  at 
the  manner  of  his  death  —  was  laid  in  a  grave  some- 
what apart. 

Seven  only  of  those  who  had  been  laid  in  the  Abbey 
by  the  rulers  of  the  Commonwealth  escaped  Spven  cx_ 
what  Dr.  Johnson  calls  this  '  mean  revenge.'      cei(tlo"s- 

Popham  was  indeed  removed,  but  his  body  was  con- 
veyed to  some  family  burial-place;  and  his  monument, 
by  the  intercession  of  his  wife's  friends  (who  p011jiam-s 
had  interest  at  Court),  was  left  in   St.  John's  »>"'»"»e''t- 
Chapel,  on  condition  either  of  erasing  the  inscription,  or 
turning  it  inwards.2 

Archbishop    Ussher   had    been    buried    in    state,   at 
Cromwell's  express  desire,  and   at  the  cost  of  £200, 
paid  by  him.3     When  the  corpse  approached  London, 
it  was  met  by  the  carriages  of  all  the  persons  .\rci,i,is]i,.p 
of  rank  then  in  town.     The  clergv  of  London  .-it  Relate, 

March  21. 

and  its  vicinity  attended  the  hearse  from  Som-  i<&5-o; 

liurieil  April 

erset  House  to  the  Abbey,  where  the  con-  17,  ICM. 
course  of  people  was  so  great  that  a  guard  of  soldiers 
was  rendered  necessary.      This   funeral  was  the  only 

1  Kennett's  Register,  p.  534.  —  The  houses  stood  till  February  17, 
1738-39   (Chapter  Hook;  see  Chap.  VI.),  and  are  to  lie  seen  in  an  old 
plan  of  the  Precincts,  and  in  Sandford's  plan  of  the  Procession  at   the 
Coronation  of  .James  II.     The  hack-yard  was  in  what  is  now  the  green 
between  the  churchyard  and  the  Abbey.     According  to  Xeale  (///.s/.  <>J 
the,  Puritans,  iv.  319),  this  'work  drew  such  a  general  odium  on  the 
government,  that  a  stop  was  put  to  any   further   proceedings.'     The 
warrant,  however,  confines  the  outrage  to  those  who  have  been  named. 

2  Dart,  ii.  145;  Crull,  p.  140.     It  would  seem  from  the  state  of  the 
monument  that  the  inscription  was  erased. 

3  Win stan ley's  Wortfiii-s,  p.  470.  —  He  erroneously  states  that  Ussher 
was  buried  in  Henry  VII. 's  Chapel. 


292  THE   MONUMENTS 

occasion  on  which  the  Liturgical  Service  was  heard 
within  the  Abbey  during  the  Commonwealth.  The 
sermon  was  preached  by  Dr.  Nicolas  Bernard  (formerly 
his  chaplain,  and  then  preacher  at  Gray's  Inn),  on  the 
appropriate  text,  '  And  Samuel  died,  and  all  Israel 
were  gathered  together;'1  and  the  body  \vas  then  de- 
posited in  St.  Paul's  Chapel,  next  to  the  monument  of 
Sir  James  Fullerton,2  his  only  instructor,  whose  quaint 
epitaph  still  attracts  attention.  The  toleration  of 
Cromwell  in  this  instance  was  the  more  remarkable, 
because,  in  consequence  of  the  Royalist  plots,  he  had 
just  issued  a  severe  ordinance  against  all  Episcopal 
ministers.  The  statesmen  of  Charles  II.  allowed  the 
Archbishop  to  rest  by  his  friend,  but  erected  no  me- 
morial to  mark  the  spot. 

Elizabeth  Claypole  escaped  the  general  warrant, 
probably  from  her  husband's  favour  with  the  Court ; 3 
Elizabeth  the  Earl  of  Essex,  perhaps  from  his  rank; 
Eiirio"-10'  Grace  Scot,4  wife  of  the  regicide  Colonel  Scot, 
perhaps  from  her  obscurity  ;  George  Wild,  the 
o-G.  brotlier  of  Jolm  Wild,  M  P)  Lord  Chief  Baron 

of  the  Exchequer  under  the  Parliament  ('  the  first 
judge  that  hanged  a  man  for  treason  for  adhering  to 
his  Prince ') ; 5  and  General  Worsley. 

With  this  violent  extirpation  of  the  illustrious  dead 


1  EIrington's  Life  of  Ussher,  p.  279. 

2  Sir  James  Fullerton  was  buried  near  the  steps  ascending  to  King 
Henry  VII.'s  Chapel,  Jan.  3,  1630-31.     (Register.) 

»  See  Chapter  III. 

4  Her  touching  monument  is  in  the  North  Transept,  1645-46.     Her 
husband  was  executed  in  1060.     She  lies  close  by  in  the  vault  of  her 
own  family,  the  Mauleverers.     (See  Register  1652-53,  1675,  1687, 1689, 
1713.) 

5  He  died  Jan.  15,  and  was  buried  near  St.  Paul's  Chapel  door, 
Jan.  21,  1649-50.     (Register.)     The  inscription  can  still  be  read. 


OF  THE   RESTORATION.  293 

the  period  of  the  Restoration  forces  its  way  into  the 
Abbey.     But  its  traces  are  not  merely  destructive. 

The  funerals  of  the  great  chiefs  of  the  Eestoration  — 
George  Monk,  Duke  of  Albemarle ;  Edward  Montague, 
Earl  of1  Sandwich ;  James  Butler,  Duke  of  Ormond  — 
followed  the  precedent  set  by  the  interment  of  the 
Duke  of  Buckingham  in  the  reign  of  Charles  Tm,Cim 
I.,  and  of  the  Parliamentary  leaders  under  ™™™*ES~ 
the  Commonwealth.  They  were  all  buried  Monk,  Duke 
amongst  the  Kings  in  the  Chapel  of  Henry  marie,  died 
VII.  At  the  head  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  buried' April 
tomb,  in  a  small  vault,  probably  that  from  Montague, 
which  Dorislaus  had  been  ejected,  Monk  was  sandwich, 
laid  with  Montague,  'it  being  thought  reason-  J"b ' J' 1(i72' 
able  that  those  two  great  personages  should  not  be 
separated  after  death.' 2  Monk,  who  died  at  his  lodg- 
ings in  Whitehall,  lay  in  state  at  Somerset  House,  and 
then,  '  by  the  King's  orders,  with  all  respect  imaginable, 
was  brought  in  a  long  procession  to  the  Abbey.'  The 
'  last  person  named  in  the  Gazette '  as  attending  was 
'  Ensign  Churchill,'  who,  after  a  yet  more  glorious  ca- 
reer, was  to  be  laid  there  himself.3  Dolben  (as  Dean) 
officiated.4  The  next  day  a  sermon  was  preached  by 
Bishop  Seth  Ward,  who  had  '  assisted  in  his  last 
Chiistian  offices,  heard  his  last  words  and  dying 


1  The  Earl  of  Sandwich,  in  Pepvs's  Diary,  as  his  chief,  is  always 
'  My  lord.'  For  the  programme  of  his  funeral,  see  Pepys's  Correspond- 
ence, v.  4S4.  Evelyn  was  present.  (Mi-moirn,  ii.  -T72  ) 

-  ('mil.  ]>.  107.  —  In  the  interval  between  Monk's  death  and  funeral 
his  wife  died,  and  was  buried  in  the  same  vault,  Februarv  28.  1G69-70. 
'This  twain  were  loving  in  their  lives,  and  in  their  deaths  they  were 
not  divided.'  (Ward's  Si-rm<»i,  '2(.t.) 

:i  Campbell's  Admirals,  ii.  U7:>. 

4  See  the  whole  account  in  Sandford's  Fnn< -nil  of  Monk.  The  Peaii 
aud  Prebendaries  wore  copes.  Offerings  were  made  at  the  altar. 


294 


THE   MONUMENTS 


groan.' 1  Orniond,  with  his  whole  race,  was  deposited 
THE  in  the  more  august  burial-place  at  the  foot  of 

VAH.T.  Henry  VII.  which  had  hut  a  few  years  before 
held  Oliver  Cromwell,  which  then  received  the  offspring 
of  Charles  II.'s  unlawful  passions,  and  which  henceforth 
became  the  general  receptacle  of  most  of  the  great 


1670.     A  1.    Duke  of  Albemarle,  General 

Monk. 
A  2.     Ducliess  of  Albemarle. 

1719.  A  :i.     Joseph  Addison. 

1720.  A  4.     James  Craggs. 

1716.     B  1.     George     Fitzroy,     Duke    of 

Northumberland. 
B  2.    (The      ]il;ite      is      absent.) 
Catherine,     Duchess     of 
Northumberland,  his  first 
wife. 

1708.     c  1.     Elizabeth,  Lady  Stanhope. 
171 5.     c  2.     Earl  of  Halifax. 


174:5. 

D  1. 
D  2. 

(Not  examined.) 
Frances,  Lady  Carteret. 

1763. 

L>  'A. 

John,  Earl  of  Granville. 

173S. 

K  1. 

Mary,    second    Duchess    of 
Northumberland. 

1744. 

E  2. 

Grace,  Countess  Granville. 

1734. 

F  1. 

Elizabeth,  second  Duchess 

of  Albemarle. 

1745. 

F  2 

Sophia,   Countess  of  Gran- 
ville. 

PLAN  OF   THE   VAULT   OF   GENERAL   MONK,    IN   THE  NORTH   AISLE   OF 
HKXHY  VJI.'S  CHAPEL.     (Examined  Sept.  27,  18G7.) 

nobles  who  died   in  London,   and  who  lie  there  un- 
Eari  ..f         marked  by  any  outward  memorial.     The  first 

Ossory,  July 

30,1080.        who  was  so  interred  was  Ormonds  own  son, 
the  Earl  of  Ossory,2  over  whom  he  made  the  famous 

1  Ward's  Sermon,  p.  32.  '  I  saw  him  die  erect  in  his  chair,  uti  im- 
peratorem  decuit.' 

-  Keepe,  p.  109.  His  body  is  said  to  have  been  removed  to  the 
fatnilv  vault  in  Kilkenny  Cathedral,  but  not  till  after  his  father's  burial. 
(Ormond's  will.)  (Carte's  Life  of  Ormond,  ii.  499.)  There  is  now  ao 


OF   THE   RESTORATION.  295 

lament :  '  Nothing  else  in  the  world  could  affect  me  so 
much;  but  since  I  could  bear  the  death  of  my  great 
and  good  master,  King  Charles  I.,  I  can  bear  anything ; 
and  though  I  am  very  sensible  of  the  loss  of  such  a 
son  as  Ossory  was,  yet  I  thank  God  my  case  Dlu.lR,ss  of 
is  not  quite  so  deplorable  as  he  who  condoles  y,""".^1' 
writh  me,   for  I  had  much  rather  have   my  J^L;S 
dead  son  than  his  living  one.'     There  his  wife  o/o'rmoudT 
was  buried,  on  a  yet  sadder  day;  and  there  Au=r- 4> 105S- 
his  own  body,  'by  long  sickness  utterly  wasted  and 
decayed,' 1  was  laid  quite  privately,  just  before  the  fall 
of  the  House  of  Stuart,  which  he  had  so  long  upheld 
in  vain. 

It  is  highly  characteristic  of  Charles  IT.,  who  took  to 
himself  the  grant  given  him  for  his  father's  monument,2 
that  not  one  of  these  illustrious  persons  was  honoured 
by  any  public  memorial.3  Sandwich  and  Ormond  still 
remain  undistinguished.  Monk,  for  fifty  years,  was 
only  commemorated  in  the  Abbey  by  his  effigy  in 
armour  (the  same  that  was  carried  on  his  hearse)  in  the 
south  aisle  of  Henry  VII. 's  Chapel — a  standing  testi- 
mony of  the  popular  favour,  and  of  the  regal  weight  of 
the  general  and  statesman  on  whom,  during  the  calami- 
ties of  the  Great  Civil  War,  of  the  Great  Plague,  and 
the  Great  Fire,4  the  King  and  nation  had  leaned  for 
counsel  and  support.  His  ducal  cap,  till  almost  within 

trace  of  this  coffin  in  that  vault.  When  opened  in  18f>4  it  contained 
many  bones,  but  only  one  leaden  coffin,  and  that  of  a  female.  I  owe 
this  to  the  Hev.  James  Graves  of  Kilkenny. 

1  Keepe,  ii.  50(5,  550.  '-'  See  Chapter  III. 

3  The  banners,  pennons,  and  guidons,  of  Monk  and  Sandwich,  and 
other  insignia  of  honour,  were  hanging  over  their  graves  in  1711.    (Crull, 
p.  110.)     The  names  were  inscribed  in  1867. 

4  '  If  the  general  had  beeu  here,  the  city  had  not  been  burned.' 
(Ward's  Sermon,  p.  .30.) 


296  THE   MONUMENTS 

our  own  time,  was  the  favourite  receptacle  of  the  fees 
for  the  showmen  of  the  tombs,  as  well  as  the  constant 
butt  of  cynical  visitors.1  At  length,  in  pursuance  of 
the  will  of  his  son  Christopher,  who  lies  by  his  side, 
Monument  the  present  monument  was  erected  by  the 

of  Monk,  r  J 

1^0.  family,  still  without  the  slightest  indication 

of  the  hero  in  whose  honour  it  was  raised.  Charles  II. 
used  to  say  of  him,  that  '  the  Duke  of  Albemarle  never 
overvalued  the  services  of  George  Monk  ; ' 2  the  King 
himself  did  not  overvalue  the  services  of  the  Duke  of 
Albemarle. 

Much  the  same  fortune  has  attended  the  memorials 
of  the  inferior  luminaries  of  the  Restoration  who  rest 
Firl  nf  in  the  Abbey.3  Clarendon,  its  great  historian, 
j«nri4ldon'  was  brought  from  his  exile  at  Rouen,  and  laid 
in  his  family  vault,  but  without  a  stone  or 
name  to  mark  the  spot,  at  the  foot  of  the  steps  to 
Bislioi)  Henry  VII.'s  Chapel.4  In  St.  Edmund's 
Moi!'k!uec.  Chapel  lies  Nicholas  Monk,  '  the  honest 
20,  icci.  clergyman  '  who  undertook  the  journey  to 
Scotland  to  broach  the  first  design  of  the  Restoration 
to  his  brother  the  General,  for  whom  he  had  always 
had  '  a  brotherly  affection,'  but  who  was  sent  back  with 
such  '  infinite  reproaches  and  many  oaths,  that  the 

1   See  Note  on  the  Waxworks.  2  Campbell's  Admirals,  ii.  273. 

3  Thomas  Blagg,  who  defended  the  Castle  of  Wallingford,  and  died 
November  14,  1660,  was  buried  on  the  'north  side  of  the  church.'     Sir 
Thomas  Ingram,  Privy  Councillor  to  Charles  II.,  who  died  Feb.  13, 
1671-72,  has  a  monument  at  the  entrance  of  St  Nicholas's  Chapel. 

4  The  name  was  added  in  1867.     Here  was  laid  his  mother  (16G1) 
and  his  third  son  (1664-65),  and  afterwards  his  grandson,  Lord  Corn- 
bury  (1723),  (who  'represented'  Queen  Anne,  as  Governor  of  New 
York,  by  appearing  at  a  levee  in  woman's  robes).     His  niece,  Anne 
Hyde,  wife  of  Sir  Ross  Carey,  was  buried  on  July  23,  1660,  in  the 
centre  of  the  Choir,  with  a  quaint  epitaph,  commemorating  this  mem- 
orable date. 


OF   THE   RESTORATION.  297 

poor  man  was  glad  when  he  was  gone,  and  never  had 
the  courage  after  to  undertake  the  like  employment.' 1 
His  services,  however,  were  not  forgotten,  and  he  was 
raised  to  the  see  of  Hereford,  and  dying  immediately 
afterwards  was  buried  in  the  Abbey.  The  Duke,  his 
brother,  and  all  the  Bishops  followed.  Evelyn  was 
present.2  But  he  also  was  left  for  sixty  years  to  wait 
for  a  monument,  which  ultimately  was  erected  by  his 
last  descendant,  Christopher  Bawlinson,  in  1723.  Two 
other  prelates,  like  him,  died  immediately  after  the 
Eestoration.  Close  to  Nicholas  Monk,  under  a  simple 
slab,  lies  Feme,  Bishop  of  Chester,  and  Master 
of  Trinity,  who  had  attended  Charles  I.,  Feme, 

March  25, 

during  his  imprisonments,  almost  to  the  last,  iso*. 
and  '  whose  only  fault  it  was  that  he  could  Bishop 
not  be  angry.'     Brian  Duppa,  Bishop,  first  of  Aj.riia'-t, 
Salisbury,  and  then  of  Winchester  —  who  had 
been  with  Charles  I.  at  the  same  period,  and  had  been 
tutor  to  Charles  II.  and  James  II. — lies  in 
the  North  Ambulatory,  with  a  small  monu-  me 
ment,  which  recalls  some  of  the  chief  points  of  interest 
in  his  chequered  life :  —  how  he  had  learned  Hebrew, 
when  at  Westminster,  from  Lancelot  Andrewes,  then 
Dean ;  how   affectionately  he   had   clung   to  REirNT  OF 
Richmond,  the  spot  where  his   education   of  CHARLES  IL 
Charles  II.  had  been  carried  on  ;  how,  after  the  Restora- 
tion,3 he  had  there  built  the  hospital,  which  he   had 
vowed  during  his    pupil's   exile ;    how  there  he    died, 
almost  in  the  arms  of  that  same  pupil,  who  came  to  see 

1  Clarendon,  vii.  383,  384.     State  Papers,  1062. 

2  Evelyn,  ii.  184. 

3  Kennett.  p.  050.     Pepys's  Di'nri/,  July  29,  1000. —  'To  Whitehall 
Chapel.     Heard  a  cold  sermon  of  the  Bishop  of  Salisbury  (Duppa), 
and  the  Communion  did  not  please  me;  they  do  so  overdo  that.' 


His  inonu- 

ueut. 


298  THE  MONUMENTS 

him  a  few  hours  before  his  death,  and  received  his  final 
blessing — one  hand  on  the  King's  head,  the  other 
raised  to  heaven.1 

In  the  wake  of  the  mighty  chiefs  who  lie  in  Henry 
Vll.'s  Chapel,  are  monuments  to  some  of  the  lesser 
Eari  of  Mad-  soldiers  of  that  time.  In  tho  North  Transept 
June?!'1  an(l  its  neighbourhood  are  five  victims  of 
Sherry,  the  Dutch  war  of  1665— viz.,  William  Earl 
u'rd  19 ;  °f  Marlborough,  Viscount  Muskerry,  Charles 
SUSs??'  Lord  Falmouth,  Sir  Edward  Broughton,  and 
?m,Sfn'  Sir  William  Berkeley.  Of  these,  all  fell  in 
Berkeley,  battle  except  Broughton,  who  '  received  his 
death-wound  at  sea,  and  died  here  at  home.' 
Berkeley,  brother  of  Lord  Falmouth,  was  '  °mbalmed 
by  the  Hollanders,  who  had  taken  the  ship  when  he 
Hamilton  vvas  slain,'  and  '  there  in  Holland  he  lay  dead 
Neve/Ai^f  ^n  a  sugar-chest  for  everybody  to  see,  with  his 
septSl23)g8e>  flao  standing  up  by  him.'  He  was  then  'sent 
over  by  them,  at  the  request  and  charge  of  his 
relations.' 2  From  the  Dutch  war  of  1672  were  brought, 
to  the  same  North  Aisle,  Colonel  Hamilton,  Captain  Le 
Neve,  3  and  Sir  Edward  Spragge, 4  the  naval  favourite 
of  James  II.,  and  the  rival  of  Van  Tromp,  5  whose  un- 
timely loss  his  enemy  mourned  with  a  chivalrous 
Harbordami  regret — 'the  love  and  delight  of  all  men,  as 

Coltrell,  ° 

icr-j.  well  for  his  noble  courage  as  for  the  gentle 

sweetness  of  his  temper.'  In  the  Nave,  beside  Le 
Neve's  tablet,  is  the  joint  monument  to  Sir  Charles 

1  The  monument  originally  was  where  that  of  Lord  Ligonier  now 
is.  A  monument  of  his  namesake,  Sir  Thos.  Duppa,  who  outlived  the 
dynasty  he  had  served  (1694),  is  in  the  North  Aisle. 

-  Register;  Pepys,  June  16,  1666. 

3  Under  the  organ-loft.     (Ibid.) 

4  Campbell's  Admirals,  ii.  338. 
s  Ibid.  ii.  349,  350. 


OF   CHARLES   II.'S   REIGN.  299 

Harbord  l  and  Clement  Cottrell,  '  to  preserve  and  unite 
the  memory  of  two  faithful  friends,  who  lost  F.ih.b 
their  lives  at  sea  together,  in  the  terrible  fight  108°- 
off  the  Suffolk  coast,'  2  '  in  which  their  Admiral  (Lord 
Sandwich)  also  perished.'  Not  far  off  is  the  monument 
of  Sir  Palmes  Fairborne,3  who  fell  as  Governor  of  Tan- 
giers,  October  24,  1680  —  remarkable  partly  as  a  trace 
of  that  outpost  of  the  British  Empire,  first  cradle  of  our 
standing  army  — partly  from  the  inscription  written  by 
Dryden,  containing,  amongst  specimens  of  his  worst 
taste,  some  worthy  of  his  best  moods,  describing  the 
mysterious  harmony  which  often  pervades  a  remarkable 
career : — 

His  youth  and  age,  his  life  and  death  combine 
As  in  some  great  and  regular  design, 
All  of  a  piece  throughout,  and  all  divine  : 
Still  nearer  heav'n  his  virtues  shone  more  bright, 
Like  rising  flames,  expanding  in  their  height. 

Others  are  curious,  as  showing  the  sense  of  instability 
which,  in  that  inglorious  reign,  beset  the  mind  of  the 
nation,  even  in  the  heart  of  the  metropolis  :  — 

Ye  sacred  reliques !  which  your  marble  keep, 
Here,  undisturb'd  by  wars,  in  quiet  sleep  ; 
Discharge  the  trust  which  (when  it  was  below) 

1  There  is  a  touching  allusion  in  Sir  Charles  Harbord's  will  'to  tlio 
death  of  his  dear  sou  »Sir  Charles  Harbord,  which  happened  the  28th  of 
Mav,  1672,  being  Whitson  Tuesday,  to  his  great  grief  and  sorrow,  never 
to  be  laid  aside;'  and  he  directed  forty  shillings  to  be  given  to  the  poor 
(and  himself,  if  he  died  in  or  near  Westminster,  to  be  buried)  near  to 
the  monument,  '  as  long  as  it  shall  continue  whole  and  undefaccd,  in 
Westminster  Abbey  Church,  on  the  28th  day  of  May,  for  ever,  by  the 
advice  and  direction  of  the  Dean  then  for  the  time  being.'     (Communi- 
cated by  Colonel  Chester.) 

2  Epitaph. 

3  His  wife  was  buried  here,  1G'J4  ;  an  infant  sou  had  also  been  buried 
iu  the  Cloisters,  1678-79.     (Register.) 


300  THE  MONUMENTS 

Fairborne's  undaunted  soul  did  undergo, 
And  be  the  town's  Bulladium l  from  the  foe. 
Alive  and  dead  these  ivalls  he  will  defend : 
Great  actions  great  examples  must  attend. 

Three  memorials  remain  of  tha  calamitous  vices  of 
the  period.  Thomas  Thynne,  '  Tom  of  Ten  Thousand,' 2 
Thomas  ^ie  '  Western  Issachar '  of  Dryden's  poems, 
burieT'  ^es  n°k  far  fr°m  n^s  ancestor  William,  of  hap- 
pier fame.  His  monument,  like  the  nearly 
contemporary  one  of  Archbishop  Sharpe  at  St.  Andrews, 
represents  his  murder,  in  his  coach  in  Pall  Mall,  by  the 
three  ruffians  of  Count  Konigsmark.3  The  coachman 
is  that  Welshman  of  whom  his  son,  the  Welsh  farmer, 
boasted  that  his  father's  monument  was  thus  to  be  seen 
in  Westminster  Abbey.  The  absence  of  the  long  in- 
scription which  was  intended  to  have  recorded  the 
event  4  is  part  of  the  same  political  feeling  which  pro- 
tected the  murderer  from  his  just  due.  ft  was  erected 
(such  was  the  London  gossip)  by  his  wife,  '  in  order  to 
get  her  a  second  husband,  the  comforts  of  a  second 
marriage  being  the  surest  to  a  widow  for  the  loss  of  a 
first  husband.' 

In  the  Cloisters  is  the  tablet  to  Sir  Edmond5  Berry 
Godfrey,  the  supposed  victim  of  the  Popish  Plot, 
sirE .  B.  restored  by  his  brother  Beniamin  in  1695, 

GoillVey,  J  J 

1078, 1695.  with  an  epitaph  remarkable  for  the  singular 
moderation  with  which  he  refers  to  History  for  the 
solution  of  the  mystery  of  Sir  Edrnond's  death. 

1  So  in  the  epitaph.  2  Tom  Brown,  iii.  127. 

3  See  an  account  by  Hornbeck  and  Burnet  of  the  last  confession  of 
two  of  the  assassins  (1682). 

4  It  is  given  in  Crnll  (Appendix,  p.  26). 

5  So  it  is  written  on  his  monument.     He  was  called  '  Berry  '  after  a 
family  to  which  he  was  related.     He  is  buried  at  St.  Martin's-in-the- 
Fields.     (Londiniana,  iii.  199.) 


OF   CHARLES   II.'S   REIGN.  301 

In  the  centre  of  the  South  Transept  lies  '  Tom  Chif- 
finch,1  the  King's  closet-keeper.  He  was  as  well  last 
night  as  ever,  playing  at  tables  in  the  house,  T.  chiffmch, 

April  1U, 

and  not  being  ill  this  morning  at  six  o'clock,  iwa 
yet  dead  before  seven.  ...  It  works  fearfully  among 
people   nowadays,  the   plague,  as    we  hear,  increasing 
rapidly  again.'  2 

We  pass  to  a  monument  of  this  epoch,  erected  not 
by  public   gratitude,  but   by  private   affection,  which 
commemorates  a  husband  and  wife,  both  re-  William 
markable  in  the  whole  of   the  period  which  ^J,vke"^fSh' 
they  cover.     In    the    solitude    of  the    North  ?ae,"''^Ue' 
Transept,  hitherto   almost  entirely  free  from  107<i~7- 
monuments,    the    romantic    William    Cavendish,   'the 
loyal  Duke  of  Newcastle,'  built  his  own  tomb. 

He  was  a  very  fine  gentleman,  active,  and  full  of  courage  ; 
and  most  accomplished  in  those  arts  of  horsemanship,  danc- 
ing, and  fencing  which  accompany  a  good  breeding.  He 
loved  monarchy,  as  it  was  the  foundation  and  support  of  his 
own  greatness ;  and  the  Church,  as  it  was  well  constituted 
for  the  splendour  and  security  of  the  Crown  ;  and  religion, 
as  it  cherished  and  maintained  that  order  and  obedience  that 
was  necessary  to  both  ;  without  any  other  passion  for  the 
particular  opinions  which  were  grown  up  in  it,  and  distin- 
guished it  into  parties,  than  as  he  detested  whatsoever  was 
like  to  disturb  the  public  peace.3 

With  him  is  buried  his  second  wife,  herself  as  re- 
markable as  her  husband  —  the  most  prolific  M.iri,aret 
of  female  writers,  as  is  indicated  by  her  book  I;"' :,',%,.  ,,f 
and  inkstand    on   the    tomb.     She  was  sur-  j^"';1,*1'''' 
rounded    night   and    day  with  young  ladies,  10"J~4- 
who  were  to  wake  up  at  a  moment's  notice  '  to  take 

1  lie  was  the  brother  of  the  more  notorious  William  Ohiffinch. 

2  Pepys's  Diary,  April  4,  1666.  3  Clareudou,  iv.  517. 


302  THE   MONUMENTS 

down  her  Grace's  conceptions ; '  authoress  of  thirteen 
folios,  written  each  without  corrections,  lest  her  com- 
ing fancies  should  be  disturbed  by  them ;  of  whom  her 
husband  said,  in  answer  to  a  compliment  on  her  wis- 
dom, '  Sir,  a  very  wise  woman  is  a  very  foolish  thing : ' 
but  of  whom,  in  her  epitaph,  with  more  unmixed  admi- 
ration, he  wrote  that  '  she  was  a  very  wise,  witty,  and 
learned  lady,  as  her  many  books  do  testify ; '  and,  in 
words  with  which  Adclison  was  '  very  much  pleased ' 
— '  Her  name  was  Margaret  Lucas,  youngest  sister  of 
Lord  Lucas  of  Colchester  —  a  noble  family,  for  all  the 
brothers  were  valiant,  and  all  the  sisters  virtuous.' 1 
'  Of  all  the  riders  on  Pegasus,  there  have  not  been  a 
more  fantastic  couple  than  his  Grace  and  his  faithful 
Duchess,  who  was  never  off  her  pillion.' 2  '  There  is  as 
much  expectation  of  her  coming,'  said  Pepys,  '  as  if  it 
were  the  Queen  of  Sweden.'  He  describes  her  appear- 
ance at  the  Eoyal  Society :  '  She  hath  been  a  good  and 
seemly  woman,  but  her  dress  so  antick,  and  her  deport- 
ment so  ordinary,  that  I  do  not  like  her  at  all ;  nor  did 
I  hear  her  say  anything  that  was  worth  hearing,  but 
that  she  was  full  of  admiration,  all  admiration  ! ' 3  In 
reply  to  her  question  to  Bishop  Wilkins,  author  of  the 
work  on  the  possibility  of  a  passage  to  the  Moon  — 
'  Doctor,  where  am  I  to  find  a  place  for  waiting  in  the 
way  up  to  that  planet  ? '  -  -  Wilkins  answered,  '  Madam, 
of  all  the  people  in  the  world,  I  never  expected  that 
question  from  you,  who  have  built  so  many  castles  in 

1  Spectator,  No.  99.    It  has  been  suggested  to  me  that  this  may  have 
been  inspired  by  a  passage  in  Moliere's  Georges  Dundin,  acted  in  1 GG8, 
act  i.  scene  4  —  'Dans  la  maison  de  Sotenville,  on  n'a  jamais  vu  de 
coquette ;  et  la  bravoure  n'y  est  pas  plus  here'ditaire  aux  males  que  la 
chastetc  aux  femelles.' 

2  Walpole  (Londiniana,  i.  127). 

3  Pepys's  Diary,  April  and  May,  166". 


OF   THE   REVOLUTION.  303 

the  air,  that  you  may  lie  every  night  at  one  of  your 
own !' 

By  a  slight  anticipation  of  the  chronological  order, 
we  may  here  notice  the  monument  which  stands  next 
to  this  in  the  Transept,  and  which  with  it  long  guarded 
the  open  space.1  It  was  attracted  to  its  position  by  a 
triple  affinity  to  this  particular  spot.  John  Holies  was 
descendant  both  of  the  families  of  George  JoimHoiies, 
Holies  and  Sir  Francis  Vere,  who  lie  imme-  Newcastle, 

Aug.  9, 

diately  behind;  and  after  his  marriage  with  mi. 
the   granddaughter   of   William    Cavendish,   who    lies 
immediately  by  his  side,  he  was  created  Duke  of  New- 
castle.2    By  all   these   united   titles    he   became   '  the 
richest  subject  that  had  been  in  the  kingdom  His  monu. 
for  some  ages ; ' 3  and  his  monument  is  pro-  Ineilt' 1723- 
portionably  magnificent,  according  to  the  style  which 
then  prevailed.     On  it  the  sculptor  Gibbs  staked  his 
immortality ;    and  by  the    figures   of   '  Prudence '   and 
'  Sincerity,' 4  which  stand  on  either  side,  set  the  exam- 
ple of  the  allegorical  figures  which,  from   that  time, 
begin  to  fill  up  the  space  equally  precious  to  the  living 
and  the  dead.5 

The  statesmen  and  warriors  of  the  Revolution  have 
but  slight  record  in  the  history  of  the  Abbey.  Ben- 

1  The  houses  of  these  two  Dukes  of  Newcastle  can  still  be  traced  ; 
that  of  Cavendish  iu  Xeiccastle  Place  in  Clerkenwell,  that  of  Holies 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  Lincoln's  Inn  and  of  Newcastle  Street  iu  the 
Strand. 

2  See  p.  61. 

3  Burnett's  Oicn  Time,  vi.  62  (or  ii.  580)  ;  and  see  his  epitaph. 

4  '  Sincerity'  lost  her  left  hand  in  the  scaffolding  of  George  IV.'s 
coronation. 

5  The  Chapel  behind  was,  from  his  vault,  formerly  called  the  '  Holies 
Chapel  ;'  and  in  it  a  new  vault  was,  in  1766,  made  for  Lord  and  Lady 
Mountrath,  who   before    that  had   been   buried  in   the  Argyll    vault. 
(Register.) 


304  THE  MONUMENTS 

tinck,  the  Earl  of  Portland,  with  his  first  descendants, 
favourite  and  friend  of  William  III.,  lies  in  the  Or- 
THE  REVO-  mond  vault,  just  '  under  the  great  east  win- 
i<m°N  dovv.'  1  When  Marshal  Schomberg  fell  in 
D^ueTfk>  tne  Passa8e  °f  the  Koyne,  it  was  felt  that 
i709!and'  '  the  on^y  cemetery  in  which  so  illustrious  a 
The  Duke  of  warrior,  slain  in  arms  for  the  liberties  and 

Scliomberg,  e    T>       i         i  u  11        i     •  i  >  <> 

A'IK.  4,  religion  of  England,  could  properly  be  laid,  * 

aged  79.  was  Westminster  Abbey.  His  corpse  was  em- 
balmed and  deposited  for  that  purpose  in  a  leaden  coffin 

sir  Joseph  on  the  field.     But,  in  fact>  he  was  never  car- 

Soct°3,'  rie(l  further  than  Dublin,  where  he  now  lies 

buriedo'ct:  in  gt  patrjck's  Cathedral  3     His  family,  how- 

Diana  ever,  are   interred   in   the  Ormond  vault  at 

Temple, 

M.-4L'h  F'd  Westminster  —  brother,  son,  and  daughter. 
Temple  In  the  vault  of  the  Duke  of  Eichmond,* 

1694.     oir 


Fei.Teimi'le>  W^tn  wnose  family  he  was  connected  by  mar- 
riage,5 is  Sir  Joseph  Williamson,  the  English 
plenipotentiary  at  Ryswick.3  In  the  south  aisle  of  the 
Nave  lies,  by  the  side  of  his  daughter  Diana  and  wife 
Dorothy  (former  love  of  Henry  Cromwell),  Sir  William 
Temple,7  beneath  a  monument  which  combines  their 
names  with  that  of  his  favourite  sister  Lady  Gifford, 
who  long  survived  him. 

One  monument  alone  represents  the  political  aspect 
of  this  era  —  that  of  George  Saville,  Marquis  of  Hal- 

1  Begister.  2  Macaulay,  iii.  638. 

3  Beside  the  monument  inscribed  with  the  famous  epitaph  by  Swift. 
(Pettigrew's  Epitaphs,  186.) 

4  Register.  —  This  seems  hardly  compatible  with  the  statement  in 
Crull  (p.  120),  that  he  was  buried  in  the  same  small  vault  that  con- 
tained Elizabeth  Claypole,  which  is  on  the  other  side  of  the  Chapel. 

5  Nichols's  Col  leer.  viii.  12. 

6  In  St.  Paul's  Chapel  is  the  monument  of  Sir  Henry  Bellasyze, 
governor  of  Galway,  1717. 

7  Register.     See  Macaulay  's  Essay  on  Sir  W.  Temple. 


OF   THE   REVOLUTION.  305 

ifax,  who,  with  his  wife  and  daughter,  lies  in  the  vault 
of  Monk  close  by.     But  its  position  marks  his  Geo 
importance.     It  is  the  first  visible  memorial  grouts  of 
of   any  subject   that   has   gained  a  place  in  "priiTi 
the  aisle  which  holds  the  tomb  of  Queen  Eliz-  1G9a' 
abeth.     Its  classical  style,  with  its  medallion  portrait, 
marks  the  entrance  into  the  eighteenth  century,  which 
with  its  Augustan  age  of  literature,  and  its  not  un- 
worthy line  of  ministers  and  warriors,  compensates  by 
magnificence  of  historic  fame  for  its  increasing  degra- 
dation of  art  and  taste. 

Close  beside  George  Saville  is  the  monu-  ^ 

O  KEIdN  OF 

ment  of  the  second  Halifax,  who  lies  with  ^NNE* 
him l    in    General    Monk's    vault  —  Charles  ciiaries 
Montague,  his  successor  in  the  foremost  ranks  EalTof ue> 
of  the  state,  his  more   than   successor  as  a  May  2^ 
patron  of  letters  :  — 

When  sixteen  barren  centuries  had  past, 
This  second  great  Maecenas  came  at  last.2 

He  had  an    additional   connection   with  Westminster 
from  his  education  in  the  School,  and  in  his  will  he 
'  desired  to  be  buried  privately  in  Westminster  Abbey, 
and  to  have  a  handsome  plain  monument.'  3     The  yet 
more  famous  ashes  of  his  friend  Addison  were  attracted, 
as  we  shall  see,  to  that  spot,  by  the  contiguity  James 
of  him  who  '  from  a  poet  had  become  the  chief  ^If Feb.  10, 
patron   of   poets.'     On  Addison's  coffin  rests  M"™'^, 
the  coffin  of  James  Craggs,  Secretary  of  State, 
and,  in  spite  of  their  divergent  politics,  the  friend  both 
of  Addison  and  Pope.     The  narrow  aisle,  where  he  was 

1  He  lies  on  Lady  Stanhope's  coffin  (Register),  i.e.  the  daughter  of 
George  Saville. 

2  Dr.  Sewell  to  Addison.     (British  Poets.) 

3  Bioc/.  Brit.  v.  .'!06. 
.   VOL.  i.  — 20 


306  THE   MONUMENTS 

buried,  could  not  afford  space  for  more  monuments; 
and  in  the  erection  of  his  memorial,  at  the  western 
extremity  of  the  church,  we  have  at  once  the  earliest 
example  of  a  complete  dissociation  of  the  grave  and 
His  monu-  tomb,  and  also  the  first  monument  of  impos- 
ing appearance  erected  in  the  hitherto  almost 
vacant  Nave.1  His  premature  end  at  the  age  of  thirty- 
five,  by  the  smallpox,  then  making  its  first  great  rav- 
ages in  England,  no  doubt  added  to  the  sympathy 
excited  by  his  death.2  The  statue  was  much  thought 
of  at  the  time.  '  It  will  make  the  finest  figure,  I  think, 
in  the  place ;  and  it  is  the  least  part  of  the  honour  due 
to  the  memory  of  a  man  who  made  the  best  of  his 
station.' 3  So  Pope  wrote,  and  the  interest  which  he 
expressed  in  the  work  during  its  execution  never 
nagged :  '  the  marble  on  which  the  Italian  is  now  at 
work ; ?  '  the  cautions  about  the  forehead,  the  hair,  and 
the  feet ; '  the  visits  to  the  Abbey,  where  he  '  saw  the 
statue  up,'  though  '  the  statuary  was  down '  with  ill- 
ness ;  the  inscription  on  the  urn,  which  he  saw  '  scored 
over  in  the  Abbev.'  The  epitaph  remains. 

His  epitaph .  .  .       . 

'  The  Latin  inscription,'  he  says,  '  I  have  made 
as  full  and  yet  as  short  as  I  possibly  could.  It  vexes 
me  to  reflect  how  little  I  must  say,  and  how  far  short 
all  I  can  say  is  of  what  I  believe  and  feel  on  that  sub- 
ject :  like  true  lovers'  expressions,  that  vex  the  heart 
from  whence  they  come,  to  find  how  cold  and  faint 
they  must  seem  to  others,  in  comparison  of  what  in- 
spires them  invariably  in  themselves.  The  heart  glows 
while  the  tongue  falters.'4  It  exhibits  the  conflict  in 

1  It  stood  originally  at  the  east  end  of  the  Baptistery. 

2  Johnson's  Poets,  ii   63. 

8  See  Pope's  Works,  in.  368  ;  vi.  374. 

*  Pope,  ix.  427,  428,  442.  —  For  the  character  of  Craggs,  see  his 


OF   THE   REVOLUTION.  307 

public  opinion  between  Latin  and  English  in  the  writ- 
ing of  epitaphs.  It  also  furnishes  the  tirst  materials 
for  Dr.  Johnson's  criticism  :  — 

Statesman,  yet  friend  to  truth !  of  soul  sincere, 

In  action  faithful,  and  in  honour  clear ! 

Who  broke  no  promise,  serv'd  no  private  end, 

Who  gain'd  no  title,  and  who  lost  no  friend ; 

Ennobled  by  himself,  by  all  approv'd, 

Prais'd,  wept,  and  honour'd  by  the  Muse  he  lov'd. 

JACOBUS  CRAGGS,  REGI  MAGN.E  BRITANNLE  A  SECRETIS  ET 
CONSILIIS  SANCTIORIBUS,  PRINCIPIS  PARITER  AC  POPULI  AMOR 
ET  DELICLK  :  VIXIT  TITULIS  ET  IXVIDIA  MAJOR,  ANXOS  HEU 
PAUCOS,  XXXV. 

The  lines  on  Craggs  [so  writes  Dr.  Johnson]  were  not 
originally  intended  for  an  epitaph  ;  and  therefore  some  faults 
are  to  be  imputed  to  the  violence  with  which  they  are  torn 
from  the  poem  that  first  contained  them.  We  may,  how- 
ever, observe  some  defects.  There  is  a  redundancy  of  words 
in  the  first  couplet :  it  is  superfluous  to  tell  of 

1  Criticism 

him,  who  was  sincere,  true,  and  Jaitlijid,  that  he  of  Dr. 

.     Johnson. 

was  in  honour  clear.  Ihere  seems  to  be  an  opposi- 
tion intended  in  the  fourth  line,  which  is  not  very  obvious  : 
where  is  the  relation  between  the  two  positions,  that  he 
gained  no  title  and  lost  no  friend?  It  may  be  proper  here 
to  remark  the  absurdity  of  joining,  in  the  same  inscription, 
Latin  and  English,  or  verso  and  prose.  If  either  language 
be  preferable  to  the  other,  let  that  only  be  used  ;  for  no 
reason  can  be  given  why  part  of  the  information  should  be 
given  in  one  tongue,  and  part  in  another,  on  a  tomb  more 
than  in  any  other  place,  or  any  other  occasion  ;  and  to  tell 
all  that  can  be  conveniently  told  in  verse,  and  then  to  call 
in  the  help  of  prose,  has  always  the  appearance  of  a  very 

Epistle  (ibid.  iii.  295,  296 ;  and  for  the  original  inscription,  ibid.  iv. 
290). 


308  THE   MONUMENTS 

artless  expedient,  or  of  an  attempt  unaccomplished.  Such 
an  epitaph  resembles  the  conversation  of  a  foreigner,  who 
tells  part  of  his  meaning  by  words,  and  conveys  part  by 
signs.1 

The  situation  of  the  monument  has  been  slightly 
changed,  but  the  care  which  was  expended  upon  it 
was  not  in  vain,  if  the  youthful  minister  and  faithful 
lover  of  the  Muses  becomes  the  centre  of  the  memo- 
rials of  greater  statesmen  than  himself,  and  of  poets 
not  unworthy  of  Pope  —  Pitt  and  Fox,  Wordsworth  and 
Keble. 

In  the  Nave  is  a  slight  record  of  an  earlier  statesman 
of  this  age — Sidney,  Earl  Godolphin,  'chief  minister 
Loni  of  Queen  Anne  during  the  nine  first  glorious 

Godolphin, 

died  sept,     years  of  her  reiim,  buried  in  the  south  aisle  — 

15,  buried         J 

Oct.  s,  171-'.  '  a  man  of  the  clearest  head,  the  calmest  tem- 
per, and  the  most  incorrupt  of  all  the  ministers  of 
states  '  that  Burnet  had  ever  known  2  —  '  the  silentest 
and  modestest  man  that  was,  perhaps,  ever  bred  in  a 
court ; ' 3  and  who  maintained  to  his  life's  end  the 
short  character  which  Charles  II.  gave  him  when  he 
was  page,  —  '  He  wras  never  in  the  way,  and  never  out 
Henrietta,  of  the  way.'  4  The  bust  was  erected  to  him  by 
Marl!6"6  Henrietta  (his  daughter-in-law),  daughter  and 
1733."8  heiress  of  the  great  Duke  of  Maiiborough, 
who  was  buried  beside  him  and  his  brother.  Her 
mother  Sarah  was  standing  by  Lord  Godolphin's  death- 
bed, with  Sir  Robert  Walpole,  then  in  his  early  youth. 
The  dying  Earl  took  Walpole  by  the  hand,  and  turning 
to  the  Duchess,  said  :  '  Madam,  should  you  ever  desert 

1  Johnson's  Poets,  in.  205,  206. 

2  Own  Time,  vi.  135  (or  ii.  614). 

8  Ibid.  ii.  240  (or  i.  479).  4  See  Pope,  v.  256. 


The  Interior  of  the  Nave. 


. 


OF   QUEEN  ANNE'S   REIGN.  309 

this  young  man,  and  there  should  be  a  possibility  of 
returning  from  the  grave,  I  shall  certainly  appear  to 
you.' 1 

Before  passing  to  Walpole  and  the  ministers  of  the 
Hanoverian  dynasty,  we  must  pause  on  the  War  of  the 
Succession  in  Germany  and  Spain,  as  before  WAR  OF 
we  were  involved   in    the  Flemish  wars    of  cW*tux. 
Elizabeth  and  the  Dutch  wars    of   Charles  II. ;    and 
again  the  funerals  of  Blake  and  Monk  are  renewed,  and 
the  funerals  of  Nelson  and  Wellington,  in  our  own  day, 
anticipated.      When    the   '  Spectator,'    '  in    his   serious 
humour,  walked  by  himself  in  Westminster  Abbey,'  he 
observed  that  '  the  present  war  had  filled  the  church 
with  many  uninhabited  monuments,2  which  had  been 
erected  to  the  memory  of  persons  whose  bodies  were 
perhaps  buried  on  the  plains  of  Blenheim,  or  in  the 
bosom  of  the  ocean.'  3     These  monuments  were  chiefly 
in  the  northern  aisle  of  the  Nave  —  to  Gen-  Kiiiigrew, 
eral  Kiiiigrew,   killed    in    the    battle    of   Al-  1707. 
manza  ;    to  Colonel  Bingfield,4  aide-de-camp  uingfieu, 
to   the   Duke   of   Marlborough,   killed  at  the  iro'a 
battle  of  Ramillies,  whilst  '  remounting  the  Duke  on  a 

1  Wai  pole's  Letters,  vol.  i.  p.  oxxiii. 

2  One  such  monument  was  placed  tliere  long  after  Addison's  time. 
Old    Lord    Ligonier,    after    having    fought   all    through    the    wars    of 
Anne,  died  at  the  age  of  92   (1770),  in  the  middle  of  the  reign  of 
George  III. 

:!  tijtfi-tutor,  No.  20  H 711). 

4  '  Poor  Hingfield,  holding  my  stirrup  for  me,  and  lifting  me  on 
horseback,  was  killed.  I  am  told  that  lie  leaves  his  wife  and  mother 
in  a  poor  condition.'  (Letter  to  the  Duchess  of  Marl  borough  on  the 
next  day,  March  24,  11  A.M.)  There  is  a  similar  expression  in  the 
formal  despatch:  '  Von  may  depend  that  Her  Majesty  will  not  fail  to 
take  care  of  poor  Bingficld's  widow.'  (Coxe's  /,//>'  of  Murllxtrottfjh,  ii. 
.'554,  .'557.)  He  is  called  on  the  monument  Bringfield.  His  head  was 
struck  off  bv  a  cannon-hall.  The  monument  records  that  he  had  often 
been  seen  at  the  services  in  the  Abbey- 


310 


THE   MONUMENTS 


(Gate, 


cller?chel 


0  Newton  °Stanhope 

0 1|  ANDR£ 

0  FAIRBORNE 
°TOWNSBBND 

°GODOLPHIN 

0  HARGRAVE 
°Sir  W.   Temple 


0  Dr.  Mead  °  LORD 

DU.N00.NALI> 

3  SPEXCEIl  PERCEVAL 


°  Rennell 

0  ||  Telford 

=  Banks  "Livingstone 

0  G  r  a  h  a  m 
0  Ben  Jonson 
°\Vilson  °Tompion 

0  Hunter 
0  Dr.  Woodward 
0  Lyell 
0  HARVEY  and  HUTT 


0  CLYDE 

OUTRAJM 


0  HERRIES 
0  WADE 

0  Sprat 

°ADM.  TVRRELL 

°  Dr.  Freind 
0  Congreve 
0  Wharton 


S. 


0  FOX 


°  Mackintosh 


0  LORD    °  MONTAGU 
HOLLAND 


°TlEnXEY    °Z.  Macaulay 
Rennell  °  Conduit  t    °  PITT   °  HARDY  worth      °Keble 


*•    \\Atterbury 

o 

tt 


(Baptistery) 


W. 


PLAN   OF   THE  NAVE. 


OF  QUEEN  ANNE'S  HEIGN.  311 

fresh  horse,  his  former  "  fayling  "  l  under  him,  and  in- 
terred at  Bavechem,  in  Brabant,  a  principal  part  of  the 
English  generals  attending  his  obsequies  ; '  to  Heneage 
Lieutenant  Heneage  Twysden,  killed   at  the  sept  iVa 
battle  of  Blaregnies,   and  his  two    brothers.  JoimTwys- 

'    den,  Oct.  -2-2, 

John  and  Josiah,  of  whom  the  first  was  lieu-  1707- 
tenant  under  Sir  Cloudesley  Shovel,  and  per-  ^"den 
ished  with  him,  and  the  second  was  killed  at  1708- 
the  siege  of  Agremont  in  Flanders. 

In  the  southern  aisle  was  the  cenotaph  to    Major 
Creed,  who  fell  in  his  third  charge  at  Blenheim,  and 
was  buried  on  the  spot.     '  It  was  erected  by  C].eed 
his   mother,'    '  near   another  which    her    son,  1704 
while  living,  used  to  look  up  to  with  pleasure,  for  the 
worthy  mention  it  makes  of  that  great  man  the  Earl 
of  Sandwich,  to  whom  he  had  the  honour  to  be  re- 
lated, and  whose  heroic  virtues  he  was  ambitious  to 
emulate.'  2 

To  the  trophies  on  '  one  of  these  new  monuments,' 
perhaps  this  very  one,  as  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  went 
up  the  body  of  the  church  he  pointed,  and  cried  out, 
'  A  brave  man  I  warrant  him  ! '  As  the  two  friends 
advanced  through  the  church,  they  passed,  on  the  south 
side  of  the  Choir,  a  more  imposing  structure,  on  which 
Sir  Roger  flung  his  hand  that  way,  and  cried,  '  Sir 
Cloudeslev  Shovel,  a  very  gallant  man  !  '  The  -sir  C-IOM.ICS- 

J    '  .        Icy  Shovel, 

'Spectator'  had  passed  there  before,  and  'it  eii«i ot. 22, 

liiiricd  Dec. 

had  often  given  him  very  great  offence.     In-  --, |~"~- 
stead  of  the  brave  rough  English  Admiral,  which  was 
the  distinguishing  character  of  that  plain  gallant  man, 

1  Tlio  horse  (lid  not  'f:iyl,'  but  the  Duke  was  thrown   in  leaping  a 
ditch,      (f'oxe,  ii.  .V>-1.) 

2  K/iitii/i/i.  —  It  ori^inallv  stood   where  Andre's  monument  now  is, 
and  therefore  nearer  to  llarbord's  monument,  to  which  it  alludes. 


312  THE   MONUMENTS 

lie  is  represented  by  the  figure  of  a  beau,  dressed  in  a 
long  periwig,  and  reposing  himself  on  velvet  cushions, 
under  a  canopy  of  state.  The  inscription  is  answerable 
to  the  monument,  for,  instead  of  celebrating  the  many 
remarkable  actions  he  had  performed  in  the  service  of 
his  country,  it  acquaints  us  only  with  the  manner  of 
his  death,  in  which  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  reap 
any  honour.' 1  The  Admiral  was  returning  with  his 
fleet  from  Gibraltar.  It  was  believed  that  the  crew  had 
got  drunk  for  joy  that  they  were  within  sight  of  Eng- 
land. The  ship  was  wrecked,  and  Sir  Cloudesley's  body 
was  thrown  ashore  on  one  of  the  islands  of  Scilly, 
where  some  fishermen  took  him  up,  and,  having  stolen 
a  valuable  emerald  ring  from  his  finger,  stripped  and 
buried  him.  This  ring  being  shown  about  made  a  great 
noise  all  over  the  island.  The  body  was  accordingly 
discovered  by  Lieutenant  Paxton,  purser  of  the  '  Arun- 
dell,'  who  took  it  up,  and  transported  it  in  his  own  ship 
to  Plymouth,  where  it  was  embalmed  in  the  Citadel, 
and  thence  conveyed  by  land  to  London,  and  buried, 
from  his  house  in  Soho  Square,  in  the  Abbey  with  great 
solemnity.2 

At  the  time  when  the  'Spectator'  surveyed  the 
Abbey  the  great  commander  of  the  age  was  still  living. 
The  precincts  had  already  witnessed  a  scene  of  mourn- 
ing, in  connection  with  his  house,  more  touching  than 
any  monument,  more  impressive  than*  any  funeral.  At 
The  Duke  King's  College,  Cambridge,  is  a  stately  monu- 

of  Marl- 

borough.  ment,  under  which  lies  the  Duke's  only  son, 
cut  off  there  in  the  flower  of  his  promise.  The  Duke 

1  Spectator,  No.  139. 

2  Campbell's  Admirals,  iii.   28-30.      Plymouth   Memoirs,  by  James 
Yonge,  p.  40.  —  There  is  no  monument  to  Admiral  Delaval,  long'  the 
companion  of  Sir  Cloudesley  Shovel,  who  died  in  the  North,  and  was 


OF   THE   EIGHTEENTH   CENTURY.  313 

himself  had  been  obliged  to  start  immediately  for  his 
great  campaign.  But  a  young  noble l  amongst  the  West- 
minster boys,  as  he  played  in  the  cloisters,  recognised  a 
strange  figure,  which  he  must  have  known  in  the  great 
houses  of  London.  It  was  Sarah,  Duchess  of  Mouniin,,  of 
Marlborough,  who  '  used,  by  way  of  mortifica-  Duchess  of 
tion  and  as  a  mark  of  affection,  to  dress  herself  borough,  for 
like  a  beggar,  and  sit  with  some  miserable  Feb.s°"o' 
wretches  2  in  the  cloisters  of  Westminster  1|02~3- 
Abbey.'  At  last  on  that  proud  head  descended  the 
severest  blow  of  all ;  and  we  are  once  more  admitted 
to  the  Abbey  by  the  correspondence  between  Pope  and 
Atterbury.  '  At  the  time  of  the  Duke  of  Marlborough's 
funeral,'  writes  Pope,  '  I  intend  to  lie  at  the  Deanery, 
nnd  moralise  one  evening  with  you  on  the  vanity  of 
human  glory  ; '  3  and  Atterbury  writes  in  return  — 

I  go  to-morrow  to  the  Deanery,  and,  I  believe,  shall  stay 
there  till  I  have  said  '  Dust  to  dust,'  and  shut  up  that  last 
scene  of  pompous  va:iity.  It  is  a  great  while  for  me  to  stay 
there  at  this  time  of  the  year,  and  I  know  I  shall  often  say 
to  myself,  whilst  expecting  the  funeral: 

O  rns,  quando  ego  te  aspiciam,  quandoque  licebit 
Ducere  sollioitae  jucunda  oblivia  vita?? 

buried  in  the  Abbey  on  January  2.3,  1706-7  (ibid.  iii.  8  ;  Oharnock's 
Naval  Bior/m/>h>/,  ii.  1 ),  at  the  upper  end  of  the  West  Aisle.  (Register.) 

1  The  Duchess  of  Portland  said  '  the  Duke  (her  husband)  had  often 
seen  hir,  during  this  mourning  of  hers,  when  he  was  a  boy  at  Westmin- 
ster School.'  She  used  to  say  that  '  she  was  very  certain  she  should  go 
to  heaven  ;  and  as  her  ambition  went  now  bevond  the  grave,  that  she 
knew  she  should  have  one  of  the  highest  seats.'  (Mrs.  Deluny's  Auto- 
bioyraftfiy,  iii.  107.) 

-  A  Chapter  order.  May  fi,  1710,  mentions  the  'Appointment  of  a 
constable  to  restrain  divers  disorderly  beggars  daily  walking  and  beg- 
ging in  the  Abbey  and  Cloisters,  and  many  idle  boys  daily  coming  into 
the  Cloisters,  who  there  play  at  cards  anil  other  plays  for  money,  and 
are  often  heard  to  curse  and  swear.'  a  Littrrs,  iv.  (5. 


314  THE   MONUMENTS 

In  that  case  I  shall  fancy  I  hear  the  ghost  of  the  dead  thus 
entreating  me  : 

At  tu  sacratse  ne  parce  raalignus  arenas 

Ossibus  et  capiti  inlmmato 
Particulam  dare    .    .    . 
Quamquatn  festinas,  non  est  mora  longa :  licebit 

Injecto  ter  pulvere  curras. 

There  is  an  answer  for  me  somewhere  in  Hamlet  to  this 
request,  which  you  remember  though  I  do  not :  '  Poor  ghost, 
than  shalt  be  satisfied!'1  or  something  like  it.  However  that 
be,  take  care  that  you  do  not  fail  in  your  appointment,  that 
the  company  of  the  living  may  make  me  some  amends  for 
my  attendance  on  the  dead. 

Sed  me 
Imperiosa  trahit  Proserpina,  vive  valeque. 


Death  of 
the  Duk 
of  Marl- 


The  Tory  prelate  and  the  Tory  poet  waited, 
ofPMarike  no  doubt,  long  and  impatiently  for  the  slow 
IhTeTe,'  cavalcade  of  the  funeral  of  the  Great  Duke, 
funeral!1"  whose  Whiggery  they  could  not  pardon  even 
\T$L. 9>  at  that  moment  — 

By  unlamenting  veterans  borne  on  high  — 
Dry  obsequies,  and  pomps  without  a  sigh. 

His  remains  had  been  removed  from  Windsor  Lodge,  where 
he  died,  to  Marlborougb.  House.  From  thence  the  procession 
was  opened  by  bands  of  military,  accompanied  by  a  detach- 
ment of  artillery,  in  the  rear  of  which  followed  Lord  Cadogan, 
Commander-in-Chief,  and  several  general  officers,  who  had 
been  devoted  to  the  person  of  the  Duke,  and  bad  suffered  in 
his  cause.  Amidst  long  files  of  heralds,  officers  at  arms, 
mourners,  and  assistants,  the  eye  was  caught  by  the  banners 
and  guidons  emblazoned  with  his  armorial  achievements, 
among  which  was  displayed,  on  a  lance,  the  standard  of 
Woodstock,  exhibiting  the  arms  of  France  on  the  Cross  of 
St.  George. 


OF   THE   EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY.  315 

In  the  centre  of  the  cavalcade  was  an  open  car,  bearing  the 
coffin,  which  contained  his  mortal  remains,  surmounted  with 
a  suit  of  complete  armour,  and  lying  under  a  gorgeous  canopy, 
adorned  with  plumes,  military  trophies,  and  heraldic  achieve- 
ments. To  the  sides  shields  were  affixed,  exhibiting  em- 
blematic representations  of  the  battles  he  had  gained,  and 
the  towns  he  had  conquered,  with  the  motto,  '  Hello  hate 
et  plum.'  On  either  side  were  five  captains  in  military 
mourning,  bearing  aloft  a  series  of  bannerols,  charged  with 
the  different  quarter! rigs  of  the  Churchill  and  Jennings 
families. 

The  Duke  of  Montagu,  who  acted  as  chief  mourner,  was 
supported  by  the  Earls  of  Sundeiiand  and  Godolphin,  and 
assisted  by  eight  dukes  and  two  earls.  Four  earls  were  also 
selected  to  bear  the  pall.  The  procession  was  closed  by  a 
numerous  train  of  carriages  belonging  to  the  nobility  and 
gentry,  headed  by  those  of  the  King  and  the  Prince  of 
Wales. 

The  cavalcade  moved  along  St.  James's  Park  to  Hyde  Park 
Corner,  and  from  thence,  through  Piccadilly  and  Pall  Mall, 
by  Charing  Cross  to  Westminster  Abbey.  At  the  west  door 
it  was  received  by  the  dignitaries  and  members  of  the  Church, 
in  their  splendid  habiliments ; *  and  the  venerable  pile 
blazed  with  tapers  and  torches  innumerable.  .  .  .  The  pro- 
cession then  moved  through  the  Xave  and  Choir  to  the 
Chapel  of  Henry  VII.2 

—  to  the  vault3  which  contained  the  ashes  of  Ormoml, 
and  which  had  once  contained  the  ashes  of  Cromwell. 
The  expenses  were  defray  >d  by  Sarah  herself. 

Twenty-four  years  afterwards  the  body  was  removed 
to  a  mausoleum,  erected  under  her  superintendence,  in 

1  Sec  note  in  Attorhnry's  Lrttt-rs,  iv.  0,  7. — The  Demi  and  Pinions 
appear  in  copes.  The  Dean  set  up  an  altar  at  the  head  of  Henry  VII. 's 
tomb  (ibid  iv.  1  I  ),  as  in  .Monk's  funeral. 

-  Coxe's  MdiHioi'oitijh,  \\.  .'38.").  3  Register. 


316  THE  MONUMENTS 

the  Chapel  at  Blenheim,  and  there,  a  few  weeks  later, 
she  was  laid  by  his  side.1 

The  Duke's  brother,  Admiral  Churchill,  who 

Auiiiinil 

burieolda     preceded  him  by  a  few   years,  rests  in  the 
1-2, 1-10.        south  aisle  of  the  Choir. 

Whilst  Atterbury  and  Pope  were  complaining  of  the 

hard  fate  of  having  to  assist  at  the  funeral  of  the  Duke 

of  Marlborough,   they  were  also  corresponding  about 

another    tomb,    preparing    in    Henry   YII.'s 

Sheffield, 

Buskin-  Chapel,  over  the  grave  of  one  whose  claims 
diied'SFtbe>24  to  so  exalted  a  place  were  made  up  of  heter- 
MUa'rci!  25,  ogeneous  materials,  each  questionable  of  itself, 
yet,  together  with  the  story  of  its  erection, 
giving  a  composite  value  to  the  monument  of  a  kind 
equalled  by  few  in  the  Abbey.  John  Sheffield,  first 
Marquis  of  Normanby,  and  then  Duke  of  Buckingham- 
shire or  of  Buckingham,2  by  some  of  his  humble  co- 
temporaries  regarded  as  a  poet,  has  won  a  place  in 
Johnson's  '  Lives  of  the  Poets,'  and  has  left  one  cele- 
brated line.3  He  has  achieved  for  his  name4  a  more 
legitimate  place  in  Poets'  Corner  than  his  verses  could 
have  given  him,  by  uniting  it  with  the  name  of  Dry- 
den,5  on  the  monument  which  he  there  erected  to  his 
favourite  author. 

1  It  appears  from  the  Duchess's  will,  dated  August  11,  1744,  that 
the  Duke's  body  was  then  still  in  the  Abbey,  and  from  the  account  of 
her  funeral  in  October  1744,  that  it  had  by  that  time  been  removed. 
(Thomson's  Jffmoirs  of  the  Duchess  of  Marlboroitfjh,  pp.  502,  562.) 

2  -Johnson's  Lives,  ii.  153. — The  ambigu'tyof  the  title  was  to  guard 
against  confusion  with  Villiers,  Duke  of  Buckinghflin.     His  full  title 
was  '  the  Duke  of  the  County  of  Buckingham.' 

3  A  faultless  monster  which  the  world  ne'er  saw.    (Johnson,  ii.  155.) 

4  '  Muse,  'tis  enough  —  at  length  thy  labour  ends, 

And  thon  shall  live —  for  Buckingham  commends, 
Sheffield  approves,  consenting  Pha'bus  bends.'     (Pope,  iii.  331.) 
6  See  p.  121. 


OF    THE   EIGHTEENTH   CENTURY.  317 

It  was,  however,  his  political  and  military  career,  and 
still  more  his  rank,  which  won  for  him  a  grave  and 
monument  in  Henry  VI I. 's  Chapel.  He  must  have 
been  no  despicable  character,  who  at  twelve  years 
undertook  to  educate  himself;  who  maintained  the 
presence  of  mind  ascribed  to  him  in  the  extraordinary 
peril  at  sea  to  which  he  was  exposed  by  the  Sheffield's 
perfidy  of  Charles  II. ;  who,  by  his  dexterous  monument. 
answers  evaded  the  proselytism  of  James  II.  and  the 
suspicions  of  William  III.  But  probably  his  family 
connections  carried  the  day  over  all  his  other  qualifi- 
cations. He  who  had  in  his  youth  been  the  accepted 
lover  of  his  future  sovereign,  Anne,  the  legitimate 
daughter,  and  who  afterwards  married  the  natural 
daughter  of  James  II.,  almost  fulfilled  the  claims  of 
royal  lineage.  His  elevation  to  the  historic  name  of 
Buckingham  —  which,  perhaps,  procured  for  his  monu- 
ment the  Chapel  next  to  that  filled,  in  the  reign  of 
Charles  I.,  by  his  powerful  namesake  —  left  his  mark 
on  the  stately  mansion  which,  even  when  transformed 
into  a  royal  palace,  is  still  '  Bmckinyham  House,'  created 
by  his  skill  out  of  the  old  mulberry  garden  in  St. 
James's  Park,  with  the  inscription  Rm  in  uric,  '  as  you 
see  from  the  garden  nothing  but  country.' l  As  he  lay 
there  in  state,  the  crowd  was  so  great,  that  the  father 
of  the  antiquary  Carter,  who  was  present,  was  nearly 
drowned  in  the  basin  in  the  courtyard.2  The  Duchess, 
'  Princess  Buckingham,'  as  Walpole  calls  her,  was  so 
proud  of  her  'illegitimate  parentage  as  to  go  and  wee]) 
over  the  grave  of  her  father,  James  II.,  at  St.  Germains, 
and  have  a  great  mind  to  be  buried  by  him.' 3  '  On  the 

1  Defoe's  Journey  through  Eni/lnnd,  i.  194. 

2  Gent.   Mftf/.,  vol.  Ixxxiv.  pt.  ii.  p.  548. 

3  Walpole,  i.  2:14. —  Om-  •  •!'  tho.  monks  tried  to  make  her  observe 
how  ragged  the  pall  was,  but  she  would  iiot  buy  a  new  oue. 


318  THE   MONUMENTS 

martyrdom  of  her  grandfather,  Charles  I.,  she  received 
Lord  Hervey  in  the  great  drawing  room  of  Buckingham 
House,  seated  in  a  chair  of  state,  attended  by  her 
women  in  like  weeds,  in  memory  of  the  Royal  Martyr.'1 
Yet  she  did  full  honour  to  her  adopted  race ;  and  to 
express  her  gratitude  for  the  contrast  between  the 
happiness  of  her  second  marriage  and  the  misery  of 
her  first,  her  husband's  funeral  was  to  be  as  magnifi- 
cent as  that  of  the  great  Duke  of  Marlborough  ;  and 
Sheffield's  llls  monum6nt  to  be  as  splendid  as  the  Italian 
M^rch^s  taste  of  that  pedantic  age  could  make  it. 
1721.  Pope  was  in  eager  communication  with  her 

and  the  artist  Belluchi,  to  see  that  the  likenesses  were 
faithful.2      Three   children,  two   sons    and  a 

His  family.  , 

daughter,  were  transferred  at  the  same  time 
to  their  father's  vault,  from  the  neighbouring  Church 
of  St.  Margaret.3  One  son  alone  4  remained,  the  last  of 
Edmund  ^he  house,  from  whom  his  mother  was  insep- 
rm'ke'of '  arable ;  and  when  he  died  in  early  youth  at 
haUmshire,  Eoine,a  few  years  later,  she  revived  the  pageant 
Rome,1  Oct.  once  more.  Priding  herself  on  being  '  a  Tory 
buried  Jan.  Duchess  of  Marlborough,'  she  wrote  to  Sarah,  to 

borrow  the  triumphal  car  that  had  transported 
the  remains  of  the  famous  Duke.  '  It  carried  my  Lord 
Marlborough,'  replied  the  other,  '  and  shall  never  be 
profaned  by  any  other  corpse.'  '  I  have  consulted  the 
undertaker,'  retorted  her  proud  rival,  '  and  he  tells  me 
that  I  may  have  a  finer  for  twenty  pounds.' 5  The 
waxen  effigies  of  herself  and  of  her  son,  which  were 
prepared  for  this  solemnity,  are  still  preserved  in  the 

1  Walpole's  Reminiscences. 

2  Pope,  viii.  336 ;  ix.  228.  3  Register. 

4  On  the  monument  Time  is  represented  bearing  away  the  four 
children. 

5  Walpole's  Reminiscences. 


OF   THE   EIGHTEENTH   CENTURY.  319 

Abbey.1  That  of  her  son,  as  it  lay  in  state,  she  invited 
his  friends  to  visit,  with  a  message  that,  if  they  had  a 
mind  to  see  him,  she  could  carry  them  in  conveniently 
by  a  back-door.2 

The  Duchess  settled  her  own  funeral  with  the  Garter 
King  at-Arms,  on  her  deathbed,  and  '  feared  dying 
before  the  pomp  should  come  home.'  '  Why  Catherine, 

J     Duchess  of 

don't  they   send  the  canopy  for  me  to  see  ?  Bucking- 
hamshire, 
Let  them  send  it,  though  all  the  tassels  are  Ai.riis,i743. 

not  finished.'  She  made  her  ladies  vow  to  her  that,  if 
she  should  lie  senseless,  they  would  not  sit  down  in 
the  room  before  she  was  dead. 

Both  mother  and  son  were  laid  in  the  same  tomb 
with  the  Duke.  Atterbury's  letters  are  filled  with 
affection  for  them,3  and  Pope. wrote  a  touching  epitaph 
for  her4  (which  was,  however,  never  inscribed),  and 
corrected  an  elaborate  description  in  prose  of  her  char- 
acter and  person,  written  by  herself.5  She  quarrelled 
with  the  poet,  but  accepted  the  corrections,  and  showed 
the  character  as  his  composition  in  her  praise. 

Sheffield's  epitaph  on  himself  is  an  instructive  memo- 
rial at  once  of  his  own  history  and  of  the  strange  turns 
of  human  thought  and  character.6     '  Pro  Rcye  Slieffiei(1.s 
sccpe,  pro  EcpuUicd  semper,'  well  sums  up  his  l'i'ltai'h- 
political  career  under   the   last   three   Stuarts.     Then 
comes  the  expression  of  his  belief  :  - 

1  See  Note  on  the  Waxworks,  p.  208. 

2  Walpole's  Reminiscences,  i.  234. 

3  For  the  Duchess,  see  Atterlmry's  Letters,  iv.  1.35,  153,  161,  163,253, 
268,  310,  317  ;  and  for  the  young  Duko,  ibid.  iv.  14'.),  155. 

4  Johnson's  Lives  of  the  Potts,  iii.  210. 

5  Pope,  vii.  323,  325. 

6  The  sensation  produced  by  the  epitaph  at  the  time  is  evident  from 
the  long  defence  of  it  '  by  Dr.  Richard  Fiddes,  in  answer  to  a  Free- 
thinker' (1721) 


320  THE   MONUMENTS 

Dubiits  se/l  non  improbus  vixi : 
Incertus  morior,  non  perlurbatus. 
Humanum  est  nescire  el  err  are. 

Deo  conjido 

Omnipotent  bcncvolentisslino 
Ens  entium,  miserere  mei. 

Many  a  reader  has  paused  before  this  inscription. 
Many  a  one  has  been  touched  by  the  sincerity  through 
which  a  profound  and  mournful  scepticism  is  combined 
with  a  no  less  profound  and  philosophic  faith  in  the 
power  and  goodness  of  God.  In  spite  of  the  seeming 
claim  to  a  purer  life  1  than  Sheffield,  unhappily,  could 
assert,  there  is  in  the  final  expression  a  pathos,  amount- 
ing almost  to  true  penitence.  '  If  any  heathen  could 
be  found,'  says  even  the  austere  John  Newton,  '  who 
sees  the  vanity  of  the  world,  and  says  from  his  heart, 
Ens  entium,  miserere  mci,  1  believe  he  would  be  heard.' 
He  adds,  '  But  I  never  found  such,  though  I  have 
known  many  heathens.'  2  Perhaps  he  had  never  seen 
this  monument,  but  quoted  the  words  from  hearsay. 
The  expression  is  supposed  to  have  been  suggested  by 
the  traditional  last  prayer  of  Aristotle,  who  earnestly 
implored  '  the  mercy  of  the  Great  First  Cause.'  3  But 
many  readers  also  have  been  pained  by  the  omission  of 
any  directly  Christian  sentiment,  and  have  wondered 
how  an  inscription  breathing  a  spirit  so  exclusively 
drawn  from  natural  religion  found  its  way,  unrebuked 
and  uncorrected,  into  a  Christian  church.  Their  won- 
der will  be  increased  when  they  hear  that  it  once 

1  Unless  '  non  improbus  '  refers  to  his  opinions,  'not  hardened.' 

2  Scott's  Eclectic  Xo/es,  p.  265. 

3  Fiddes  (p.  40),  who  quotes  from  Cce/ius  Itftodiyeniiis  (torn.  ii.  lib.  17, 
c.  34),  and  adds  the  prayer  of  the  friends  who  are  supposed  to  be  stand- 
ing by  the  philosopher's  deathbed  — '  Qiii  philosonhoritm  anitnas  excipit 
et  tuam  colliget.'     (Ibid.  torn.  ii.  lib.  18,  c.  31. } 


OF  THE   EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY.  321 

contained  that  very  expression  of  awestruck  affection  for 
the  Redeemer,  which  would  fill  up  the  void ;  that  it 
originally  stood  '  Christum  atlvcneror,  Deo  confido.'  J 
The  wonder  will  be  heightened  yet  more  when  they 
learn  that  this  expression  was  erased,  not  by  any  too 
liberal  or  philosophic  layman,  but  by  the  episcopal 
champion  of  the  High  Church  party  —  Atterbury,  to 
whom,  as  Dean  of  Westminster,  the  inscription  was 
submitted.  And  this  marvel  takes  the  form  of  a  sig- 
nificant lesson  in  ecclesiastical  history,  \vhen  we  are  toltf 
the  grounds  of  the  objection  —  that  the  word  advcneror 
'  was  not  full  enough  as  applied  to  Christ.'  2  How  like 
is  this  criticism  to  the  worldly  theologian  who  made  it, 
but  how  like  also  to  the  main  current  of  theological 
sentiment  for  many  ages,  which,  rather  than  tolerate  a 
shade  of  suspected  heresy,  will  admit  absolute  negation 
of  Christianity  —  which  refuses  to  take  the  half  unless 
it  can  have  the  whole.  And,  finally,  how  useless  was 
this  caution  to  the  character  of  the  prelate  who  erased 
the  questionable  words.  The  man  of  the  world  always 
remains  unconvinced,  and  in  this  case  was  represented 
by  the  scoffing  Matthew  Prior,  who,  in  the  short  inter- 
val that  elapsed  between  the  Duke  of  Buckingham's 
funeral  and  his  own,  wrote  the  well-known  lines,  which, 
though  professedly  founded  on  a  perverse  interpreta- 
tion of  the  charitable  hope  of  the  Burial  Service,  evi- 
dently point  in  reality  to  the  deep-seated  suspicion  of 
Atterbury's  own  sincerity  : 

1  The  original  inscription  is  given  at  length  in  Crnll,  ii.  40  (1722)  ; 
and  also  in  Fiddes's  Letter  (1721),  who  argues  at  length  on  the  force  of 
the  expression  (p.  38).    It  was  in  this  form  that  it  received  the  approval 
of  p]rasmus  Darwin.     (Life,  by  Charles  Darwin,  p.  15  ) 

2  The  opposite  party,  in  the  published  copies  of  the  inscription,  in- 
serted solo  after  Deo.     (Fiddes,  p.  39.) 

VOL.  I.  —  21 


322  THE   MONUMENTS 

Of  these  two  learned  peers,  I  prythee  say,  man, 
Who  is  the  lying  knave,  the  priest  or  layman? 
The  Duke  —  he  stands  an  infidel  confess'd, 
'  He 's  our  dear  brother,'  quoth  the  lordly  priest.1 

Three  statesmen  stretch  across  the  first  half  of  the 

eighteenth  century.     John  Campbell,  Duke  of  Argyll 

and  Greenwich  —  soldier  and  statesman  alike, 

iD/o-l/4o. 

Arkeu°and  °^  ^ie  ^rs^  or^er  m  neither  service,  but  con- 
birfedwoct'.  spicuous  in  both  as  the  representative  of  the 
15, 1743.  northern  kingdom,  which  through  his  influ- 
ence more  than  that  of  any  single  person  was  united  to 
England — was  buried  in  a  vault2  in  Henry  VII.'s 
Chapel,  made  for  himself  and  his  family,  far  away  from 
his  ancestral  resting-place  at  Kilmun.  His  monument, 
erected  by  Eoubiliac  at  the  cost  of  an  admiring  friend, 
stands  almost  alone  of  his  class  amongst  the  poets  in 
the  Southern  Transept  —  a  situation  3  which  may  well 
be  accorded  by  our  generation  to  one  with  whose 
charming  character  and  address  our  age  has  become 
familiar  chiefly  through  the  greatest  of  Novelists.  In 
the  sculptured  emblems,  History  pauses  at  the  title  of 
'  Greenwich,'  which  was  to  die  with  him.  '  Eloquence,' 
with  outstretched  hand,  in  an  attitude  which  won 
Canova's  special  praise,4  represents  the  '  thunder '  5 

1  Pope's  Works,  ix.  209. 

2  This  new  vault  was  made  in  1743.     His  widow  was  interred  there 
April  23,  1767  ;  his  daughters,  Caroline,  Countess  of  Dalkeith,  in  1791, 
and  Mary  (Lady  Mary  Coke)  in  1811  (Register), 'the  lively  little  lady 
who,  in  the  Heart  of  Midlothian,  banters  her  father  after  the  interview 
with  Jeannie  Deans. 

3  The  monument  displaced  the  ancient  staircase  leading  from  the 

Dormitory.     ( Gleanings,  p.  48.)     Close  to  it  were  charac- 
teristically pressed  the  monuments  of  two  lesser  members  of 
the  Campbell  clan.  4  Life  of  Nolle.kens,  ii.  161. 

5  'Argyll,  the  state's  whole  thunder  born  to  wield, 
And  shake  alike  the  senate  and  the  field.'  —  (Pope.) 


OF   THE   EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY.  323 

and  '  persuasion  ' l  described  by  the  poets  of  his  age. 
The  inscription  which  History  is  recording,  and  which 
was  supplied  by  the  poet  Paul  Whitehead,2  and  the 
volumes  of  '  Demosthenes  '  and  Caesar's  '  Commentaries,' 
which  lie  at  the  foot  of  Eloquence,  commemorate  his 
union  of  military  and  oratorical  fame  ;  whilst  his  Whig 
principles  are  represented  in  the  sculptured  Temple  of 
Liberty  and  a  cherub  holding  up  Magna  Charta. 

Walpole  died  at  Houghton,  and  was  interred  in  the 
parish  church  without  monument  or  inscription  : 

So  peaceful  rests,  without  a  stone,  a  name 
Which  once  had  honour,  titles,  wealth,  and  fame.  3 

But  he  is  commemorated  in  the  Abbey  by  the  monument 
of  his  first  wife,  Catherine  Shorter,  whose  beauty,  with 
the  good  looks  of  his  own  youth,  caused  them  LaflvW.(1. 
to  be  known  as  '  the  handsome  couple.'     The  l^r'  !^ed 
position  of  her  statue,  in  the  south  aisle  of  II:!T- 
Henry  VII. 's  Chapel,  is  one  to  which  nothing  less  than 
her  husband's  fame  would  have  entitled  her.     It  was 
erected  by  Horace  Walpole,  her  youngest  son,  and  re- 
mains a  striking  proof  both  of  his  affection  for  her  and 
his  love  of  art.     The  statuo  itself  was  copied 

,    Her  statue. 

in  Rome  from  the  famous  figure  of  '  Modesty, 
and  the  inscription,  written  by  himself,  perpetuates  the 
memory  of  her  excellence  :  '  An  ornament  to  courts, 
untainted  by  them.'  If  the  story  be  true,  that  Horace 
was  really  the  son  of  Lord  Hervey,  it  is  remarkable  as 
showing  liis  unconsciousness  of  the  suspicion  of  his 
mother's  honour.  He  murmured  a  good  deal  at  having 
to  pay  forty  pounds  for  the  ground  of  the  statue,4  but 

1  '  From  his  rich  tongue 

Persuasion  flows,  and  wins  the  high  debate.' —  (Thomson.) 

2  Neale,  ii.  258.  3  Coxe's   II '«//<«/»',  chap.  Ixii.  and  Ixiii. 
4  Walwle's  Letters,  ii.  277. 


324  THE   MONUMENTS 

'  at  last,'  he  says,  '  the  monument  for  my  mother  is 
erected  :  it  puts  me  in  mind  of  the  manner  of  interring 
the  Kings  of  France  —  when  the  reigning  one  dies,  the 
last  before  him  is  buried.  Will  you  believe  that  I  have 
not  yet  seen  the  tomb  ?  None  of  my  acquaintance  were 
in  town,  and  I  literally  had  not  courage  to  venture 
alone  among  the  Westminster  boys  ;  they  are  as  formid- 
able to  me  as  the  ship-carpenters  at  Portsmouth.' x 

Pulteney,  after  his  long  struggles,  determined,  when 
he  had  reached  his  peerage,  to  be  buried  in  the  Abbey, 
puiteney  which  he  had  known  from  his  childhood  as  a 
Bath°died  Westminster  boy.  A  vault  was  constructed 
burled  July  ^or  himself  and  his  family  in  the  Islip  Chap- 
17,  i/64.  e^2  an(j  there,  in  his  eightieth  year,  his  obse- 
'ral'  quies  were  performed  by  his  favourite  Bishop 
Zachary  Pearce.3  In  the  pressure  to  see  his  funeral 
(which,  as  usual,  took  place  at  night),  a  throng  of  spec- 
tators stood  on  the  tomb  of  Edward  I.,  opposite  the 
vault.4  A  mob  broke  in,  and,  in  the  alarm  created  by 
the  confusion,  the  gentlemen  tore  down  the  canopy  of 
the  royal  tornb,  and  defended  the  pass  of  the  steps 
leading  into  the  Confessor's  Chapel  with  their  drawn 
swords  and  the  broken  rafters  of  the  canopy.  Pelham's 

1  Walpole's  Letters,  i.  352. 

2  Probably  attracted   by  the  grave  of  Jane  Crewe,  heiress  of  the 
Pulteueys  in  1 639,  whose  pretty  monument  is  over  the  chapel  door. 

3  The  most  conspicuous  monument  in  the  Cloisters  is  that  of  David 
Pulteney,  who  died  September  7,  1731,  buried  May  17,  1732.     (Regis- 
ter.)    He  was  M.  P.  for  Preston,  and  in  1722  a  Lord  of  the  Admiralty. 
It  seems  that  the   independence  which  is  so  lauded  in  this  epitaph 
showed  itself  in  his  opposition  to  Walpole,  and  his  defence  of  free  trade 
and  of  the  interests  of  the  British  merchants  abroad  (see  Parliamentary 
History,  viii.  1,  608,  647). 

4  Gent.  3fac/.  1817,  part  i.  p.  33.  —  The  antiquary  Carter  was  present, 
as  a  boy  :  '  I  stood,  with  many  others,  on  the  top  of  the  tomb.  ...  A 
dreadful  conflict  ensued.    Darkness  soon  closed  the  scene.'   (Ibid.  1799, 
part  ii.  p.  859.) 


OF  THE   EIGHTEENTH   CENTURY.  325 

career  is  celebrated  by  the  monument  to  his  'very 
faithful'  secretary,  Roberts,  in  the  South  Roberts 
Transept.  His  brother  the  Duke  of  New-  1^7  °f 
castle  is  faintly  recalled  by  the  monument  1"°' 
on  the  opposite  side  to  Kobinson,  who  was  distin- 
guished by  the  name  of  '  Long  Sir  Thomas  Kobinson.' l 
'  He  was  a  man  of  the  world,  or  rather  of  the  town,  and 
a  great  pest  to  persons  of  high  rank,  or  in  office.  He 
was  very  troublesome  to  the  late  Duke  of  Newcastle, 
and  when  in  his  visits  to  him  he  was  told  that  His 
Grace  had  gone  out,  would  desire  to  be  admitted  to 
look  at  the  clock  or  to  'play  with  a  monkey  that  was 
kept  in  tha  hall,  in  hopes  of  being  sent  for  in  to  the 
Duke.  This  he  had  so  frequently  done,  that  all  in  the 
house  were  tired  of  him.  At  length  it  was  concocted 
among  the  servants  that  he  should  receive  a  summary 
answer  to  his  usual  questions,  and  accordingly,  at  his 
next  coming,  the  porter,  as  soon  as  he  had  opened  the 
gate,  and  without  waiting  for  what  he  had  to  say,  dis- 
missed him  in  these  words :  Sir,  his  Grace  has  gone 
out,  the  clock  stands,  and  the  monkey  is  dead.'  His 
epitaph  commemorates  his  successful  career  in  Barba- 
does,  and  'the  accomplished  woman,  agreeable  compan- 
ion, and  sincere  friend '  he  found  in  his  wife.  CHIieral 

The  rebellion  of  1745  has  left  its  trace  in  ^VTedOct. 
the  tablet  erected  in  the  North  Transept  to  Jjj;,  Halt "' 
General  Guest,  '  who  closed  a  service  of  sixty  c 

1  Hawkins'  Johnson,  p.  192,  which  erroneously  states  that  lie  'rests 
in  the  Abbey.'  lie  was  culled  '  Long  '  from  his  stature,  to  distinguish' 
him  from  tlie  '  German  '  Sir  Thomas  Hobinson  of  the  same  date,  who 
was  a  diplomatist.  '  Long  Sir  Thomas  Kobinson  is  dying  by  inches,' 
said  some  one  to  Chesterfield.  'Then  it  will  be  some  time  before  he 
dies.'  The  appointment  to  the  governorship  of  Barhadoes,  mentioned 
on  his  monument,  was  given  to  him  because  Lord  Lincoln  wanted  hi* 
house.  (Walpole's  Letters,  i.  22  ;  vi.  247. \ 


326  THE  MONUMENTS 

years  by  faithfully  defending  Edinburgh  Castle  against 
the  rebels1  in  1745;'  and  in  the  elaborate  monument 
Marshal  °^  Roubiliac,  in  the  Nave,  to  Marshal  Wade, 
Ma'r<ehb2ir:ed  whose  military  roads,  famous  in  the  well- 
iilar  the  known  Scottish  proverb,  achieved  the  subju- 
choirgate.  gation  Of  t]ie  Highlands.  A  cenotaph  in  the 
East  Cloister  celebrates  '  two  affectionate  brothers,  val- 
The  iant  soldiers  and  sincere  Christians,'  Scipio 

Duroures, 

1745, 1705.  and  Alexander  Duroure,  01  whom  the  nrst 
fell  at  Foritenoy  in  1745 ;  and  the  second  was  buried 
here  in  17G5,  after  fifty-seven  years  of  faithful  service. 

Following  the  line  of  the  eye,  and  erected  by  the 
great  sculptor  just  named  —  who  seems  for  these  few 
years  to  have  attained  a  sway  over  the  Abbey  more 
complete  than  any  of  those  whose  trophies  he  raised  — 
are  the  memorials  of  two  friends,  '  remarkable  for 
their  monuments  in  Westminster  Abbey,'  but  for  little 
General  beside.  That  to  General  Fleming  was  erected 
March'lo,  by  Sir  John  Fleming,  who  also  lies  there,  '  to 

1751  • 

General        the  memory  of   his   uncle,  and   his   best   of 

Hargrave,  - 

Feb. -2,         friends.'2     1  hat  to  General  Hargrave  appears 

1750-1  ;  . 

both  buried    to  have  provoked  a  burst  of  general  indigna- 

near  the 

choir  gate,  tion  at  the  time.  It  was  believed  to  have 
been  raised  to  him  merely  on  account  of  his  wealth.8 
At  the  time  it  was  thought  that  'Europe  could  not 
show  a  parallel  to  it'4  Now,  the  significance  of  the 
falling  pyramids  has  been  so  lost,  that  they  have  even 

1  '  My  old  commander  General  Guest,'  says  Colonel  Talbot  in  \Va- 
verley,  vol.  iii.  chap.  3. 

2  Epitaph.  —  The   whole   Fleming   family  are   congregated   under 
these  monuments.     (Register.) 

3  '  Some  rich  man.'     (Goldsmith's  Citizen  of  the  World,  p.  40.)     It 
was  said  that  a  wag  had  written  under  the  figure  struggling  from  the 
tomb,  '  Lie  still  if  you're  wise  ;  you  '11  be  damned  if  you  rise.'     (Hut- 
ton's  London  Tour.)  4  Malcolm,  p.  169. 


OF  THE  EIGHTEENTH   CENTURY.  327 

been  brought  forward  as  a  complaint  against  the  Dean 
and  Chapter  for  allowing  the  monuments  to  go  to  ruin. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  Goldsmith  uttered  his  com- 
plaint :  '  I  find  in  Westminster  Abbey  several  new 
monuments  erected  to  the  memory  of  several  great 
men.  The  names  of  the  great  men  I  abso-  Rouiniiac-s 
lutely  forget,  but  I  well  remember  that  Rou-  mouume"te- 
biliac  was  the  statuary  who  carved  them.  .  .  .  Alas  ! 
alas  !  cried  I,  such  monuments  as  these  confer  honour 
not  on  the  great  men,  but  on  little  Roubiliac.'1  But 
the  sculptor  himself  was  never  satisfied.  He  constantly 
visited  Dr.  Johnson  to  get  from  him  epitaphs  worthy  of 
his  works.2  He  used  to  come  and  stand  before  'his 
best  work,'  the  monument  of  Wade,  and  weep  to  think 
that  it  was  put  too  high  to  be  appreciated.3  The 
Nightingale  tomb  was  probably  admitted  more  for  his 
sake  than  for  that  of  the  mourners.  Yet  when  he 
came  back  from  Rome,  and  once  more  saw  his  own 
sculptures  in  the  Abbey,  he  had  the  magnanimity  to 
exclaim,  with  the  true  candour  of  genius,  '  By  God  !  my 
own  works  looked  to  me  as  meagre  and  starved  as  if 
they  had  been  made  of  tobacco  pipes.' 

The  successors  of  Marlborough  by  land  and  sea  still 
carry  on  the  line  of  warriors,  now  chiefly  in  the  Nave. 
At  the  west  end  is  the  tablet  of  Captain  Wil-  Wmiam 
liam  Horneck,  the  earliest   of  English  engi-  Ap,T^' 
neers,  who  learned  his  military  science  under 
the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  and  is  buried  in  his  father's 
grave  in  the  South  Transept.     There  also  is 

Sir  Thomas 

told  the  story  of  Sir  Thomas  Hardy  —  descend-  ii.-miy,  AU-. 

•  •' 


.        _ 

ant  of   the  protector  of   Henry  VII.  on   his  i/i<iy  iianiy, 

Maya,  ITi'i). 

voyage  from  Brittany  to  England,  and  ances- 
tor of  the  companion  of  Nelson  —  who,  for  his  services 
1  Goldsmith.         -  Lift  of  Reynolds,  i.  119.         :!  Akermami,  ii.  37. 


328  THE  MONUMENTS 

under  Sir  George  Eooke,  lies  buried  (with  his  wife) 
near  the  west  end  of  the  Choir.  There,  too,  is  the 
first  monument  erected  by  Parliament  to  naval  heroism 
— the  gigantic  memorial  of  the  noble  but  now  forgotten 
Cornewaii,  death  of  Captain  Cornewall,  in  the  battle  off 
Tyrreii^died  Toulon ;  and,  close  upon  it,  the  yet  more  pro- 
juue  0,1706.  digious  mass  of  rocks,  clouds,  sea,  and  ship,  to 
commemorate  the  peaceful  death  of  Admiral  Tyrrell.1 
In  the  North  Transept  and  the  north  aisle  of  the  Choir 
follow  the  cenotaphs  of  a  host  of  seamen  —  Baker,  who 
died  at  Portmahon ;  Sauinarez,  who  fought 

Baker,  dieJ 

1716  20>  from  his  sixteenth  to  his  thirty-seventh  year 
saunmrez,  under  Anson  and  Hawke ;  the  '  good  but  un- 
1I™'.ln'irif,1  fortunate '  Balchen,  lost  at  sea  ;  Temple  West, 

3.LF  1J  IDOUtll. 

Baichen,  j^s  Son-in-law ;  Vernon,  celebrated  for  his 
we'sT'iTs-  'fleet  near  Portobello  lying';  Lord  Aubrey 
mi".""'  Beauclerk,  the  gallant  son  of  the  first  Duke 

Beauelerk,       Qf  gt   Albans>  who  fell  lmder    yernon    at    Qar- 

vr&r*'  thagena,  and  whose  epitaph  is  ascribed  to 
bulfedin  Young;  and  Warren,  represented  by  Kou- 
Transept,  biliac  with  the  marks  of  the  small-pox  on 
Holmes,  his  face.  Wager,  celebrated  for  his  '  fair  char- 
acter,' who  in  his  youth  had  fought  in  the 
service  of  the  American  Quaker,  Captain  Hull,  is  buried 
in  the  North  Transept,2  and  Admiral  Holmes  is  near 
St.  Paul's  Chapel. 

1  The  idea  of  the  monument  seems  to  be  to  represent  the  Resurrec- 
tion under  difficulties.     Tyrrell,  though  he  died  ou  land,  was  buried  in 
the  sea,  and  is  sculptured  as  rising  out  of  it.    Compare  the  like  thought 
in  the  bequest  of  William  Glanville  in  the  churchyard  at  Wottou,  who, 
when  his  father  was  buried  in  the  Goodwin  Sands,  and  he  six  yards 
deep  in  the  earth,  left  an  injunction,  still  observed,  that  the  apprentices 
of  the  parish  should,  over  his  grave,  on  the  anniversary  of  his  death, 
recite  the  Creed,  the  Lord's  Prayer,  and  the  Ten  Commandments,  and 
read  1  Cor.  xv. 

2  '  There  was  never  any  man  that  behaved  himself  in  the  Straits  (of 


OF  THE  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY.  329 

The  narrow  circle  of  these  names  takes  a  wider  sweep 
as,  with  the  advance  of  the  century,  the  Colonial  Em- 
pire starts  up  under  the  mighty  reign  of  Chatham. 
Now  for  the  first  time  India  on  one  side,  and  North 
America  on  the  other,  leap  into  the  Abbey.  The  palm- 
trees  and  Oriental  chiefs  on  the  monument  of  Admiral 
Watson  recall  his  achievements  at  the  Black  . 

Admiral 

Hole  of  Calcutta,  and  at  Chandernagore ; l  as  ^^t 
the  elephant  and  Mahratta  captive  on  that  of  ^l'utta> 
Sir  Eyre  Coote,  and  the  hill  of  Trichinopoly  g^g£ried 
on   that  of  General  Lawrence,  recall,  a  few  ^c>kburu> 
years  later,  the  glories  of  Coromandel  and  the  {f^61106' 
Carnatic.     George  Montague,  Earl  of  Halifax,  Mon'tague, 
'  Father  of  the  Colonies,'  from  whom  the  capi-  ntuifax, 
tal  of  Nova  Scotia  takes  its  name,  is  com- 
memorated  in   the    North    Transept ;    Massachusetts 2 
and  Ticonderoga,3  not  yet  divided  from  us,  appear  on 

Gibraltar)  like  poor  Charles  "Wager,  whom  the  very  Moors  do  mention 
with  tears  sometimes.'  (Pepys,  iv.  1668.)  'Old  Sir  Charles  Wager  is 
dead  at  last,  and  has  left  the  fairest  character.'  (Wai pole,  i.  248.) 

1  Gideou  Loteu,  governor  of  Batavia,  with  Fs.  xv.  1-4  for  his  char- 
acter, has  a  tablet  in  the  North  Aisle  (1789). 

2  Massachusetts  is  the  female  figure  on  the  top  of  the  monument. 
It  was  executed  by  Schumberg. 

3  Ticonderoga  appears  also  on  the  monument,  not  far  off,  of  Colonel 
Townsend,  executed  by  T.  Carter.     '  Here,'  says  the  sculp-  Townsellj 
tor's  antiquarian  son,  '  I  recall  my  juvenile  years.  ...  I  killed  July 
then  loved  the  hand,  that  gave  form  to  the  yielding  marble.  ~'J>    ""' 

I  now  revere  his  memory,  deeper  engraved  on  my  heart  than  on  that 
part  of  the  monument  allotted  to  perpetuate  the  name  of  the  sculptor.' 
(Gent.  Maij.  1799,  pt.  ii.  p.  669.)  Yet  it  was  not  entirely  Carter's: 
Pray,  Mr.  Nollekens,'  asked  his  biographer,  '  can  you  tell  me  who  ex- 
ecuted the  basso-relievo  of  Townsend's  monument  '.  .  .  .  I  am  sorry  to 
find  that  some  evil-minded  persons  have  stolen  one  of  the  heads.'  Nol- 
lekens  :  '  That 's  what  I  say.  Dean  Horsley  should  look  after  his 
monuments  himself.  Hang  his  waxworks  !  Yes,  I  can  tell  you  who 
did  it.  Tom  Carter  had  the  job,  and  employed  another  man  of  the 
name  of  Eckstein  to  model  the  fillet.  It's  very  clever.  Flaximin  used 
to  say  he  would  give  something  for  the  possession  of  the  name  of  the 


330  THE  MONUMENTS 

the  monument  in  the  south  aisle  of  the  Nave,  erected 
loniiiowi.  to  Viscount  Howe,  the  unsuccessful  elder 
inraurected  brother  °f  the  famous  admiral.  But  the  one 
1702! 14>  conspicuous  memorial  of  that  period  is  that 
wTifejdiied  °f  his  brother's  friend — 'friends  to  each  other 
se^t.'fs?' '  as  cannon  to  gunpowder '  l  —  General  Wolfe. 
Greenwich,  He  was  buried  in  his  father's  grave  at  Green- 
1759'.  2<His  wich,  at  the  special  request  of  his  mother ; 
but  the  grief  excited  by  his  premature  death 
in  the  moment  of  victory  is  manifested  by  the  unusual 
proportions  of  the  monument,  containing  the  most 
elaborate  delineation  of  the  circumstances  of  his  death 
—  the  Heights  of  Abraham,  the  River  St.  Lawrence,2 
the  faithful  Highland  sergeant,  the  wounded  warrior,  the 
oak  with  its  tomahawks.  '  Nothing  could  express  my 
rapture,'  wrote  the  gentle  Cowper,  '  when  Wolfe  made 
the  conquest  of  Quebec.'  So  deep  was  the  enthusiasm 
for  the  '  little  red-haired  corporal,'  3  that  the  Dean  had 
actually  consented  to  erect  the  monument  in  the  place 
of  the  beautiful  tomb  of  the  Plantagenet  prince,  Aymer 
de  Valence  —  a  proposal  averted  by  the  better  taste  of 
Horace  Walpole,  but  carried  out  in  another  direction 
by  destroying  the  screen  of  the  Chapel  of  St.  John  the 
Evangelist,  and  dislodging  the  monument  of  Abbot 
Estsney.  It  marks,  in  fact,  the  critical  moment  of  the 
culmination  and  decline  of  the  classical  costume  and 


artist  who  executed  the  sculptural  parts  of  this  monument,  which  he 
considered  as  one  of  the  finest  productions  of  art  in  the  Abbey.' 
(Smith's  Life  of  NoUeke.ns,  ii.  308.) 

1  Walpole's  Memoirs  of  (leorye.  II. 

2  The  bronze  bas-relief  is  by  Capitsoldi.     It  is  exact  down  to  the 
minutest  details  of  Wolfe's  cove,  the  Chateau  de  St.  Louis,  &c.     This 
monument  is  by  Wilton,  who  '  carved  Wolfe's  figure  without  clothes 
to  display  his  anatomical  knowledge.'     (Life  ofNollekens,  ii.  173.) 

3  Note   and  Queries,  xii.  398. 


OF  THE  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY.  331 

undraped  figures  of  the  early  part  of  the  century. 
Already,  in  West's  picture  of  the  Death  of  Wolfe,  we 
find  the  first  example  of  the  realities  of  modern  dress 
in  art.1 

Earl  Howe  —  great  not  only  by  his  hundred  fights, 
but  by  his  character,  '  undaunted  and  silent  as  a  rock, 
who  never  made  a  friendship  but  at  the  cannon's 
mouth  ' 2  first  of  the  naval  heroes,  received  his  public 
monument  in  St.  Paul's  instead  of  the  Abbey.  It  was 
felt  to  be  a  marked  deviation  from  the  rule,  and  the 
Secretary  of  State,  Lord 'Dundas,  in  proposing  it  to  Par- 
liament, emphatically  gave  the  reason.  It  was  that, 
'  on  a  late  solemn  occasion,  the  colours  which  Lord 
Howe  had  taken  from  the  enemy  on  the  first  of  June 
had  been  placed  in  the  metropolitan  Cathedral.'  But 
that  great  day  of  June  is  not  left  without  its  mark  in 
Westminster.  The  two  enormous  monuments  [;ORD, 

rlOWE  s 

of  Captains  Harvey  and  Hutt,  and  of  Captain  C'AI>TAI:<S- 
Montagu,  who  fell  in  the  same  fight,  originally  HutTaiid 
stood  side  by  side  between  the  pillars  of  the  .H",'^^; 
Nave,3   the    first    beginning    of    an    intended  lf  1'1'4' 
series  of  memorials  of  a  like  kind.     Corres-  CAPTAINS! 
ponding  to  these  three  captains  of  the  Nave,  uayne. 
but  of  a  slightly  earlier  date,  are    the  three  Manners, 
captains  of  the  North  Transept — Bayne,  Blair,  ITS". 
and  Lord  Piobert  Manners,  who  perished  in  like  manner 
in  Rodney's  crowning  victory,  and  whose  colossal  monu- 
ment4 so  cried  for  room  as  to  expel  from  its  place  the 

1  Life  of  Reynolds,  ii.  20G. 

2  Campbell's  Admirals,  vii.  240. 

3  (\eale,  ii.  228.)    They  were  transposed  by  Dean  Vinrent,  Montagu 
to  tbe  west  end,  and  Harvey  and  Hutt,  greatly  reduced,  to  one  of  the 
windows. 

4  It  was  shut  up  for  seven  years  after  its  erection,  from  the  delay  of 
the  iuricriptiou.     (Gent.  May.,  vol.  Ixiii.  pt.  ii.  p.  782.) 


332  THE   MONUMENTS 

font  of  the  church,  which  has  since  taken  refuge  in  the 
western  end  of  the  Nave.1 

The  tablet  of  Kempenfelt  in  the  Chapel  of  St.  Michael 
commemorates  the  loss  of  the  '  Koyal  George.'  2  Ad- 
Kempenfeit,  miral  Harrison  is  buried  at  the  entrance  into 
i7s7. "  the  Cloisters,  with  the  two  appropriate  texts, 

Harrison, 

Oct. -26, 1791.  Deus  portus  meus  d  refugium.,  and  Dens  mon- 
EariDun-  stravit  tniracula  sua  in  profundis ;  and  the 

donald,  died  *•      J  ' 

oct.  si,        funeral  of  Lord  Dundonald,  in  the  Nave  — 

buried  Nov. 

14, 1860.  thus  at  the  close  of  his  long  life  reinstated  in 
the  public  favour  —  terminates  the  series  of  naval 
heroes  which  begins  with  Blake.  Nelson,3  who  at  Cape 
St.  Vincent  looked  forward  only  to  victory  or  West- 
minster Abbey,  found  his  grave  in  St.  Paul's. 

The  military  line  still  runs  on.  The  unfortunate 
General  Burgoyne,  whose  surrender  at  Saratoga  lost 
Burgnyne,  America  to  England,  lies,  without  a  name,  in 
13,1792.  °'  the  North  Cloister.  But  of  that  great  struggle4 
the  most  conspicuous  trace  is  left  on  the  southern  wall 
Aiuir  died  °f  the  Nave  by  the  memorial  of  the  ill-fated 
buried  No8v!'  ^ajor  Andre,5  whose  remains,  brought  home 
after  a  lapse  of  forty  years,  lie  close  beneath. 
When,6  at  the  request  of  the  Duke  of  York,  the  body 

1  Neale,  ii.  208. 

2  Near  this  are  the  monuments  of  Admirals  Storr  (1783),  Pocock 
(1793),  and  Totty  (1800),  and  of  Captain  Cook,  who  fell  in  the  sea- 
fight  in  the  Bay  of  Bengal  (1799),  and  the  handsome  medallion  of 
Captain  Stewart  (1811). 

3  See  a  humorous  allusion  to  this  in  Lusus  West.  ii.  210.     See  Note 
on  the  Waxworks. 

4  The  only  other  mark  of  the  American  war,  showing  the  tragic 
Wragjr,  died   interest  it  excited,  is  .the   monument  to  William  Wragg, 
Sept.  3, 1777-  shipwrecked  in  his  escape  from  South  Carolina. 

5  The  bas-relief  appears  to  represent  Andre'  as  intended  to  be  shot  ; 
not,  as  was  the  case,  to  be  hanged. 

6  Lift  of  Major  Andre,  by  Winthrop  Sargeant,  pp.  409-411.    Burial 
Register.     Annual  Register,  1821,  p.  333 


OF  THE   EIGHTEENTH   CENTURY.  333 

was  removed  from  the  spot  where  it  had  been  buried, 
under  the  gallows  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson,  a  few 
locks  of  his  Deautiful  hair  still  remained,  and  were  sent 
to  his  sisters.  The  string  which  tied  his  hair  was  sent 
also,  and  is  now  in  the  possession  of  the  Dean  of  West- 
minster. A  withered  tree  and  a  heap  of  stones  now 
mark  the  spot,  where  the  plough  never  enters.  When 
the  remains  were  removed,  a  peach  tree,1  of  which  the 
roots  had  pierced  the  coffin  and  twisted  themselves 
round  the  skull,  was  taken  up,  and  replanted  in  the 
King's  garden,  behind  Carlton  House.  The  courtesy 
and  good  feeling  of  the  Americans  were  remarkable. 
The  bier  was  decorated  with  garlands  and  flowers,  as  it 
was  transported  to  the  ship.  On  its  arrival  in  Eng- 
land, it  was  first  deposited  in  the  Islip  Chapel,  and 
then  buried,  with  the  funeral  service,  in  the  Nave,  by 
Dean  Ireland,  Sir  Herbert  Taylor  appearing  for  the 
Duke  of  York,  and  Mr.  Locker,  Secretary  of  Greenwich 
Hospital,  for  the  sisters  of  Andre*.  The  chest  in  which 
the  remains  were  enclosed  is  still  preserved  in  the 
Revestry.  On  the  monument,  in  bas-relief,2  by  Van 
Gelder,  is  to  be  seen  the  likeness  of  Washington 
receiving  the  flag  of  truce  and  the  letter  either  of 
Andre*  or  of  Clinton.  Many  a  citizen  of  the  great 
Western  Republic  has  paused  before  the  sight  of  the 
sad  story.3  Often  has  the  head  of  Washington  or 
Andre*  been  carried  off,  perhaps  by  republican  or  royal- 
ist indignation,  but  more  probably  by  the  pranks  of 
Westminster  boys  :  '  the  wanton  mischief,'  says  Charles 

1  In  1868  (lied  an  old  American  lady  who  had  as  a  g\r\  given  him  a 
peach  on  that  occasion. 

2  The  monument  was  deemed  of  sufficient  importance  to  displace 
that  of  Major  Creed. 

3  Amongst  them  Benedict  Arnold  (through  whose  act  Andre  had 
suffered).    Peter  von  Scheuck,  p.  147. 


334  THE  MONUMENTS 

Lamb,  '  of  some  school-boy,  fired  perhaps  with  some 
raw  notions  of  Transatlantic  freedom.  The  mischief 
was  done,'  he  adds,  addressing  Southey,  'about  the 
time  that  you  were  a  scholar  there.  Do  you  know 
anything  about  the  unfortunate  relic  ? ' 1  Southey, 
always  susceptible  at  allusions  to  his  early  political 
principles,  not  till  years  after  could  forgive  this  passage 
at  arms.  The  wreatli  of  autumnal  leaves  from  the 
banks  of  the  Hudson  which  is  placed  over  the  tomb 
was  brought  by  the  Dean  from  America. 

Here  and  there  a  few  warriors  of  the  Peninsular  War 
are  to  be  found  in  the  Aisles.  Colonel  Herries's  fune- 
ral, in  the  south  aisle  of  the  Nave,  was  remarkable  for 
the  attendance  of  the  whole  of  his  corps,  the  Light  Horse 
Volunteers,  of  which  he  was  described  as  the 
son,  May  15,  Father.2  Sir  Eobert  Wilson,  like  Lord  Dun- 
sir'james  clonald,  after  many  vicissitudes,  has  found  a 

Outram,  died 

at  pau,         place  in  the  north  aisle  of  the  Nave.*1     There 

March  11, 

buried          also  the  late  Indian  campaigns  are  represented 

Marcli  25, 

1863.  by  the  two  chiefs,  Outram  and  Clvde,  uniteu 

Lord  Clyde,         J 

died  Aug.  14,  jn  the  close  proximity  of  their  graves,  after 

buried  Aug.  J 

•22, 1863.        the  loii£  rivalry  of  their  lives,  followed  by  Sir 

Sir  George  <f  J 

£8(!12°ck'  George  Pollock,  whose  earlier  exploits  pre- 
served Afghanistan.  The  Crimean  War,  the 
Indian  Mutiny,  and  the  loss  of  the  'Captain,'  will  be 
long  recalled  by  the  stained  glass  of  the  North  Tran- 
sept. The  granite  column  which  stands  in  front  of  the 
Abbey  also  records,  in  a  touching  inscription  —  from 
its  public  situation  more  frequently  read  perhaps  than 
any  other  in  London  —  the  Westminster  scholars  who 

1  Lamb's  Ella.  2  Lord  Teignmonth's  Life,  i.  268. 

3  Two  young  officers,  Bryan  and  Beresford,  who  fell  at  Talavera 
(1809),  and  Ciudad  Rodrigo  (1812),  have  monuments  in  the  North 
Aisle. 


OF   THE   EIGHTEENTH   CENTURY.  335 

fell  in  those  campaigns,  and  whose  names  acquire  an 
additional  glory  from  the  most  illustrious  of  their  num- 
ber, Lord  Raglan.1     A  monument  not  far  from  Kem- 
penfelt,  in  the  Chapel  of  St.  John,  was  erected  to  the 
memory  of  Sir  John  Franklin  by  his  hardly  Moilumcnt 
less  famous  widow,  a  few  weeks  before  her  ^p.?,!']'.^1'11 
own  death  in  her  83rd  year.     Its  ornaments  18<0' 
are  copied  from  the  Arctic  vegetation,  and  from  the 
armorial   bearings  which  served  to  identify  the  relics 
found  on  his  icy  grave,  and  the  lines  which  indicate  his 
tragic    fate   are    by   his    kinsman,    the    Poet-Laureate 
Tennyson. 

1  The  erection  of  the  column  (1861)  is  commemorated,  and  the  in- 
scription given  in  Lusus  West.,  ii.  282-85. 


END    OF    VOL.    I. 


COLLEGE 
L28 

DA 

68? 

W5S? 


• 

1 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 

COLLEGE  LIBRARY 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


' 

5    1975 


Book  Slip — Series  4280 


UCLA-College  Library 

DA687W5S7V.1 


